To Change a Mad King
by FanaticalTheorist
Summary: When Gangrel is taken in by the Shepherds after a long period with the Pirate King, he isn't the man who he used to be. Gangrel x Emmeryn.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone, I thought I might share with you my favourite shipping within Fire Emblem Awakening. I just love the idea of Gangrel x Emmeryn, so I hope I do it justice.**

Nightmares. Every bloody night, nightmares. It was always the same, thunderstorms, graves of sand, and Her. She who had sacrificed herself for what she believed in, She who had inspired all around her. Where once it would never have affected him, he now regretted his decisions every day. Especially these days. Gangrel now found himself as no more than a low-life lackey of a sea tyrant. Not that he minded much; actually he didn't really care what happened to him. He knew he was all but dead. When he woke up every morning after such restless nights, he was reminded of all that he had lost. He shifted the shovel in his hands to keep his fingers from going numb. At this current time, he was tasked with shovelling through the ruins of the latest village they had plundered for anything worth salvaging and selling. He knew if he didn't find anything, there would be a beating and no food for tonight, but he didn't really care. What he did care about was that small group of wyverns flying in his direction. Not wanting to be caught slacking, Gangrel went back to shovelling. As did the other men tasked with the same job.

As the wyverns got closer, Gangrel also saw the body of warriors, berserkers and other soldiers employed by the Pirate King following close behind. And heading the group on foot was the king of pirates himself, the self-proclaimed lord Zanth, tyrant of the seas. Gangrel squinted behind the group with unease, a show of force only meant one thing, a battle was about to break out. Knowing this, Gangrel dropped all pretences of work, Zanth wouldn't care at this moment in time. It wasn't a long wait before the host was upon them.

"Listen up yer Maggots, works done fer the day. Grab yer weapons from the men 'ere and get ready ter fight!"

Wanting to know who they were up against, Gangrel spoke up "Who are we fighting against?"

"Watch yer tongue Maggot! It's M'lord to yer, and no one asked yer to speak! However, yer in for the fight of yer lives. The Cavalry's here for our arses and it's the blue Princeling of Ylisse ter boot!"

With that statement, Grangrel completely zoned out from the rest of the commotion, the army to which he had lost his whole life to was now forming up to strike again. Perhaps this time, Gangrel thought, he might get lucky and fall in combat. He absentmindedly toyed with the pendant around his neck.

Gangrel was rudely jolted back to reality by one of the berserker's, who silently handed him a Levin sword after whacking him with it to gain his attention. Gangrel felt more secure holding a Levin sword, knowing what was to come. It wasn't long before they herded onto an open field to engage the opposing army.

0o0

Walking through the Ylissian camp was a daunting experience, almost every face he ran into gave him a hostile look, with some even going as far as to make threatening gestures. Gangrel found solace in the fact that striding beside him was the prince himself. Though the blue haired man had stated that running him through with a sword would be an enjoyable experience, he said that Her influence on his life had taught him the art of forgiveness.

"These will be your quarters," Chrom explained as they reached an empty tent," I have taken the liberty of not bunking you with anyone for the foreseeable future, this should give you enough time to settle in and for the rest of the camp to get used to you."

"No need to bunk me in an empty tent Princeling, if they want to slit my throat, they will." Gangrel didn't believe in niceties and beating around the bush, and he wanted to establish that right now.

Chrom gritted his teeth in annoyance "I was being polite, Gangrel. But do not worry, I have told people that if anyone touches you, they answer to me. Also, tonight I want you to meet someone, I will send Robyn to collect you." And with that, Chrom left.

Gangrel set about unpacking his meagre amount of belongings, A pretty stone he was told to be a dragonstone, his pendant and the jewel encrusted ring he had managed to hide from the thieves and vagabonds whilst being enslaved with the pirates. The ring was a family heirloom, and it was the most precious thing Gangrel owned. Setting aside his few items, he noticed that his bedroll was already laid out along with a small cupboard, table and chair, all of which were either foldable or easy to transport while on the move.

With time on his hands, Gangrel left his tent, keeping to the shadows of tents and dodging out of the way of passing shepherds. Gangrel disdainfully recalled a time when he strode with purpose, strength and pride, instead of skulking like a common thief. Nevertheless, he made it to the perimeter of the camp and fled to the dense tree line, where he found a comfortable spot amongst the nettles to think.

0o0

Gangrel lay face down in the dirt, breathing shallow to try and stop the wound in his side from opening any further. Chrom stood over him for a second longer before turning away and voicing his victory to all those who were near. Gangrel's consciousness started to slip…

He awoke to the sound of wings and the nauseating feeling of flight, and by cracking his eyes open, he could just make out who could only be Aversa in the saddle. With no energy to even keep his eyes open, Gangrel just lay there and slipped in and out of consciousness. When they touched down however, he was gently removed from the saddle and then placed in a field. Aversa than leant over him and gave him one of her genuine smiles.

"As much as I despise you Gangrel, I must thank you for what you have done for me. As such I have taken care of your wounds as best I can and will leave you here. These are the lands of Zanth the Sea King. It will be a hard life, but it's all you deserve. I'll leave you now, I've done what I needed to do, and that's all I care about. Don't weep too much over me!"

And with that Aversa re-mounted and flew off, leaving him lying in the field. It wasn't long until he was found…

0o0

The shadows created by the light filtering through the canopy of the tree's had a strange soothing effect on Gangrel, and he reflected on how he had changed. Though he knew he was just as liable to provoke and enrage someone for fun, he also knew the gravity of his actions, even if only in hindsight. When he thought back to his days of power, he remembered the power he had held, and abused, and although he wished to hold that power again, Gangrel knew he could never allow himself to. When one spends four years of hard labour with nothing but their thoughts for company, its remarkable what things one thinks of. And for Gangrel, his mind remembered Her.

Gangrel must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, Robyn was kneeling in front of him, nudging him awake with a smile on his face.

"Gangrel, It's me Robyn, I've come to take you back to camp"

"How did you find me? And I'm not budging either, I'll be murdered back there!"

"I found you because you walked right past Khellam apparently, and don't worry about the camp Gangrel, Chrom and I have it covered, now will you please come?"

"What's in it for me?"

"You say you have changed right? Become a better man? Well to do that, you may need to see and talk to the people you inconvenienced, and we have someone that you might want to see. Don't worry though, if you truly meant that you were trying to change, this will only make you see the error of your ways and help you along."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then we deem your claim as false and treat you accordingly – As a liar, and a man thought to be long dead!"

"Fine, I'll come."

Robyn extended his hand and together the two headed back to camp. The Tactician was in an oddly cheerful mood, and unfortunately, it was hard to ignore, or hate for that matter, and Gangrel found himself liking the tactician as the man spouted famous battles fought in the past. While back in camp, many of the shepherds and soldiers had retired, thus leaving the camp quieter than what it had been earlier in the day. Gangrel estimated that they had made it to almost the centre of the camp before they stopped in front of a white tent, of which voices could be heard. The tactician had a cryptic look on his face as he lifted the flaps and ushered the Trickster inside. Who he found in there brought him to a standstill.

Chrom and Lissa sat around a table, with a third chair occupied by an imposing, young blonde woman, who was looking directly at him with a puzzled expression. Gangrel was speechless.

"Wh-What! B-B-B-But H-How? She d-d-died, I saw her die!"

Lissa rolled her eyes and excused herself from the tent, while Chrom's expression only hardened as he sat there and observed the Mad King. Lady Emmeryn for her part, cocked her head to the side and looked into his eyes before stating

"I…know you. You are…some...one important."

Her voice was so soft and pure, the voice of innocence. It was the halting and the slight slur in her voice however, that Gangrel noted above the others. He knew then that though she was alive, as remarkable he himself being alive to him it seemed, that she was disabled. Chrom, too reacted.

"She recognises you Gangrel. Are you aware you are the first that she has recognised? But why you of all people?" Gangrel looked from Chrom to Emmeryn before replying to Chrom

"Why am I here? After what I did to Her, why am I here?"

"You are here, because if you were serious about being a changed man, you first needed to see what your actions had caused. Emmeryn here has lost her memory along with having acquired a speech impairment. I don't know why, but she seems to remember you…." Before either could speak, Emmeryn spoke up

"Gan…grel, I like… that…name. We are…friends…yes?"

Something inside Gangrel cracked at hearing those words. For four years he had thought about nothing but Emmeryn's last words as she had sacrificed herself. He had thought of nothing but the way she had vied for peace, and how he had ended it. She had changed him, and now here he stood, while she stated they were friends in such a childlike manner? This was wrong, so so wrong. With a panicked look in his eye, Gangrel sidestepped Chrom who had opted to stand and address Gangrel, and bolted from the tent. He could not bear to see what he had caused, especially since every night he relived his mistakes. And now, now he would dream about her broken form as it rose from the fall, as it rose and asked "can we be friends?"

He found himself back in his tent, somehow having forgone the camp perimeter while in his panic, He sat on his bedroll and thought about the events that had just occurred, She – Emmeryn – was alive, broken yes, but alive. He had caused her the injuries, and yet she still wanted to be friends. He knew it was because of her lack of memories, amnesia, that had allowed this to happen, for all he knew, as soon as her memories came back she would hate him. But what mattered now was the fact that she remembered him. Then something occurred to him, why was he so emotional? He knew why, with those nightmares that haunted him each night, he had come to deeply regret taking the exalts life, come to realise and understand what she had preached. It had changed him. The sound of his tent flap opening made him face the newcomer, which turned out to be Chrom.

"Only cowards run Gangrel, I can't say I'm surprised"

"I'm no coward princeling, I was just struck by the gravity of my actions, and your sister's innocent plea. I am deeply sorry for the pain and suffering I have caused her. Now if you'll excuse me, I need some time to myself."

"Before I leave, I need a favour from you Gangrel. And as much as it pains me to ask you, it seems to be the only logical path. Since milady has at least remembered you, you may be the key to regaining her memories. You may be the key to healing her. Rectify your past mistakes Gangrel, by healing her. It's the least you can do."

The prince was shocked to find tears rolling down the Tricksters face.

"Of course I'll bloody help you! If only to make her better. The man I once was, was deluded by power and greed. And though he still resides in me, it pains me to see the repercussions of the pain and suffering I caused. Now I ask again for you to leave my tent. I need time to myself."

"Very well," and with that Chrom left. Gangrel sank down into his bed roll and tried to stop the emotions that were overwhelming him. He calmed himself by breathing slowly, a tactic he had learned from the flying vixen who had left him in a field. In no time at all, he fell asleep.

0o0

The sound of his tent flap once again alerted Gangrel to the presence of someone in his tent. Though the sound was faint and he could tell the person was using exaggerated care to be silent, the Mad King's senses were usually very keen, and as such Gangrel slowly moved his hand to the hilt of the knife he had placed near his bedroll before he went to sleep. He heard the flap being lowered back in place and assumed his unwelcome visitor was in the tent. With fast reflexes, Gangrel sprung up and flipped over the crouching figure, startling the would be assailant before landing behind her and placing a blade to her throat.

"Peekaboo," Grangrel whispered menacingly, "I heard you…."

**Well, that is chapter one done. I know I skipped the recruitment battle for Gangrel, but it wasn't really crucial for the story. This chapter was just put in place to help get the setting and main views across I guess. Also, I would like to offer you guys the chance to pair some of the characters. Only a few will have an impact however in the actual story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello all, here is chapter 2 to my story. I would like to thank the Erudite for his great review, and I hope you can see the difference or the effort I have put in to rectify the mistakes you pointed out. Also to that random guy for the Aversa suggestion, it was a great idea, and one I had and will have fun with. To all my other reviewers, thank you for your comments and feedback, Muchly appreciated!**

"G-get off me you – you Bastard!" Even though the figure was still cloaked in the darkness brought about by night, Gangrel had heard that voice on his walk through the camp earlier that day (or was it yesterday, he wasn't entirely sure) and from what he could remember the owner of that voice was the renowned Ylissian red-headed knight. Her battle prowess was feared greatly in Plegian armies, or at least it had been.

"My my, who do we have here? GYAHAHAHA! A red headed knight come to take my head have we? Oh this is glorious!" The Mad King cackled with glee, caring little for the noise he was making. He had caught the lass out and he wanted people to know it.

"Keep your voice down you ass!" Sully harshly whispered. The hero in training was squirming in the trickster's arms, trying to release herself from the lock he was currently applying with his forearm.

"Oh, but why would I do that sweetheart? You're the one after my blood, not me, no sir-ee. I'm just a poor, defenceless man in his bedroll! You attacked me right? So this is the part where I yell for help? No?" Gangrel was thriving with his position of power over the young woman and she knew it.

"Don't you do it!" she warned, but alas it was already too late.

"HALP ME! ASSASSIN! IM GONNA DIE! YOU HAVE TO HALP ME!" Gangrel's tone was loud and laced with mock fear. Sully returned to struggling with earnest, bucking and twisting her body to get free, but Gangrel held firm. Around them the camp was starting to come alive, with curses and clinking of weapons as soldiers and no doubt the shepherds came running to Gangrel's tent.

"Gaah! You win arsehole, now just let me go! I swear I won't try something like this again!" Sully was desperate now, but Gangrel wasn't going to give up. This was too much fun, and it would get even better when 'help' arrived. Gangrel cursed Chrom and his thoughtfulness to place his tent a ways away from the other tents in camp.

"Nay milady, now if you'll just sit still this will all be over soon. Well for me it will be anyway Kyahahaha!" At that his tent was unceremoniously slashed open as an orange haired thief came bowling in, sword in hand ready to fight. The thief was then confronted with the sight of Gangrel restraining the red headed hero. Gaius shook his head at the scene.

"You just about screwed this one up as much as your cooking Red." Gaius leant out the tent and made a half shooing gesture with one of his hands.

"He was too quick for me, I should have just let you do it, since you're the real assassin here and all," Sully hung her head in humiliation.

"What's all this ruckus abou…, Sully, what's going on here?" Chrom had only just barged into the tent and was faced with the situation.

Gangrel took the pause to jump in and play the victim. "I was just in this here bedroll dreaming of sheep and fences and the whole shebang, and this wench here comes in ready to take my head clean off!"

"Sully, this true?" Chrom turned to Sully, Sully remained mute.

"Look I know he is despicable and we all hate him, but for the love of god, just leave him alone. Sully, you're to remain on camp duty for the next few engagements. As much as we hate him, he is one of us now, give him time. He says he's changed, and I know that doesn't make up for what he has done, but we also need him. His skills are valuable. Gangrel, release her, and everyone get back to bed!"

"That was a nice speech and all Princeling, but I just wanted to raise one point. You were aware I was in the room, right? 'Because I took offense to that." Gangrel adopted a wounded look.

"For what you've done Gangrel, just accept what comes. However, I will put an end to this whole attempt on your life thing, as it stands, you may be Emmeryn's one and only chance to regain her memories. Now everyone OUT!"

With that, Chrom stormed from the tent, knocking over Gaius in the process. Sully scrambled from her kneeling position, gave Gangrel a filthy look and snatched the assassin and left the tent as well. Gangrel shook his head in amusement. He may regret his past actions, but some habits die hard. He went back to his bedroll, fully aware of the now brisk breeze flowing through his tent due to the sword slash in his tent wall. He sighed and closed his eyes, only for them to snap back open when he was aware of another presence, He wasn't too sure what alerted him, but sitting up, he could just make out the outline of a very feminine figure in the far right corner of his tent.

"Who goes there?" Gangrel spoke harshly.

"Awww darling, no need to be harsh around me, after all, we are old friends aren't we?

Gangrel felt his spine tingle and became aware that the draft had now become close to an arctic breeze. He knew that voice all too well.

"How are you here vixen? I hardly think they would recruit you after the whole Dragon's table incident!" Even with the pirates, tales still made it to Gangrel's ears, and the fight over the fire emblem was one of such tales.

"While that may be true darling, I-I was recruited because of other circumstances. The person I once was, isn't the person who I am now." Flashbacks of the dark rider flying off into the distance while Gangrel lay flat in a field haunted Gangrel's mind.

"I couldn't give a rat as to how much you've changed; you left me for dead, whether it be from my wounds or from that tyrant, Zanth. What did you do? Bed the prince for forgiveness? Are you the camp's personal, on-call 'entertainment'?" Gangrel's harsh words drew an audible gasp from the Dark Flier.

"That's not true at all," Her voice was very soft and faint, and Gangrel could also detect sadness as well. This more than anything drew his attention to her words, "When Robyn struck me down before Grima's return, I barely escaped. I spent the following weeks escaping Plegia, I was a wreck. I kept having dreams, like unbidden memories returning from the depths of my mind. In one of the cities of Valm, a woman directed me to the wellspring of truth, saying I might get answers from there. When I arrived, the shepherds too were there. I learned that I was snatched away when I was but a child, and became a mental slave to your right hand man Validar. I did things I regret, just as I am sure you are experiencing as well Gangrel, but I have promised that I fight only for the shepherds now."

Gangrel could detect nothing but the truth in her words, and begrudgingly accepted them. However there was one more thing he wished to know.

"This is all well and all, but why are you here after what happened tonight?"

"I wanted to see if you were ok darling and make sure you weren't hurt." Aversa's tone reverted back to its norm of being flirtatious.

"Well waste your pity elsewhere, it's not needed here," Gangrel's tone was gruff in the hopes of getting the vixen out of his tent, it worked.

"A woman knows when she isn't needed or wanted, and right now I'm getting those vibes, so I'm going to leave." With that Aversa up and left, but as she walked through the flap cut into his tent, the moonlight reflected off of something on one of her fingers. Gangrel thought nothing of it. Instead he dared anyone else to interrupt him as he tried for some sleep.

0o0

Gangrel awoke to the sound of the camp slowly coming alive. After quickly donning some clothes and splashing his face with water, he stepped through the cut in his tent, marvelling at how it made such a better entry and exit way than the actual tent flap. What the tent flap did do more however, was actually attract people who still wanted to use it for what it's for, and Gangrel found a note stuck to his tent which instructed him of the jobs that had been assigned to him for the current rotation. Which he noted ruefully, lasted two weeks at a time.

Making his way to the mess tent which sat in the centre of the camp, Gangrel yet again noticed the hostile gazes chucked his way. A Feroxian Swordsmaster stopped his early morning practice to glare him down. Gangrel, who had noted the talent to which the young man had been wielding the blade, was a little disappointed that he had stopped.

"You can continue you know, I was only passing."

"It is the fact that you were passing that has caused me to stop. I do not wish for you to study my ways, find my weaknesses and then use them against me, which I'm sure you would, given the chance." The Swordsmaster was brutally honest, making no move to continue his sword play whilst the Mad King was around. Gangrel accepted his reasoning within his stride and moved onwards.

With the tents of the Shepherds located in the centre of the camp as well, Gangrel surmised that the swords-master he had just confronted and the others he was meeting along the way were part of the elite force that drove the Ylissian-Feroxian army. He passed the red headed thief/assassin from the night before who was leading a dreary eyed tall brunette from their tent. Gangrel heard Gaius call the lady Sumia and he filed this name away for later.

It's who he saw exiting the tent ahead of him, however, which stopped him dead in his tracks. Emerging from what was quite obviously the tactician's tent was Robyn and Aversa, with the former giving the latter a quick peck on the lips before indulging himself in a huge morning stretch. Yet again a glint came off of Aversa's hand, and Gangrel spotted the impressive ring perched on her finger. Gangrel ducked between tents to avoid detection from the pair while scowling. No matter what that spring had shown, that vixen, as far as he was concerned, did not deserve happiness. In his rush to leave, he bounced off the armour of a very foreboding general.

"Gangrel, just the man I was looking to see. I hope you received your allocated tasks for this rotation? Why, yes you have, I see them there in your pocket. That is good, make sure they are completed to an appropriate standard, because everyone else aspires to do just so with their own tasks. I haven't seen you in the mess tent either, to get there continue on the path you were on and turn right after the 7th row of tents, you will see the large tent. Tiki, Stahl and Gregor are on breakfast duty, so there will be a nice spread on for today."

"Thank you for the wealth of information, and being civil. But just who are you? Have we met?" Gangrel was suddenly confused, having met hostility the whole way through the camp, having this wall of iron strike up conversation was weird.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I am Sir Frederick, Chrom's right hand man. I have been tasked with your safe-keeping, much to my own dismay. But you needn't worry, I'll do my job as best as I can."

"Much to your dismay – and yet you are quite civil?"

"Old habits die hard, and politeness is among them."

"Well thank you, I guess, now if you don't mind, I would like to eat"

"Not at all, I'll be keeping tabs so expect me around."

Breakfast was, as the wall of iron had said, quite nice. Just the usual foods you would expect in camp, but compared to the slop he had been living on for four years, it was nice. Gangrel sat in the far corner of the tent, surveying all who walked in. Robyn and Aversa had taken their plates to a table that was crowded by the largest group of misfits Gangrel had laid eyes on. No doubt they were all Shepherds, but they were an unruly bunch. There was much laughter and many conversations taking place at once, as if they were one big family. As soon as Aversa and Robyn were amongst the throng, they were swallowed in and became part of the raucous bunch, with Aversa migrating naturally to the female discussions, as the tactician sat himself down with his mates. Gangrel hated how easily Aversa seemed to be welcomed by the group. She had caused as much pain as he had, and yet she sat amongst them, wed to the tactician no less. He was just about to get up and leave, pushing his plate away, when a plate appeared beside him, startling him.

"Good…Morning Gangrel, M...May I …sit here?" Her words, so soft spoken, caused fear to race through Gangrel. He was rooted to the spot, unable to move or answer, only able to look upon her face. Emmeryn looked down upon him with a smile and asked again.

"May I…sit here?"

"O-Of course y-y-you can." Gangrel sputtered.

"It is nice… to see... you again."

Recovering enough to manage whole words, he replied "And I you, milady. Can I perhaps help you with anything?"

Emmeryn giggled, then looked at her plate, which held just a piece of flat bread and an egg.

"I don't think… you could help… me with… this. But perhaps we may talk… later?"

Gangrel only nodded at that, he didn't even try to continue the conversation. Nor she for that matter, as Emmeryn was quite content to eat her breakfast in peace. Gangrel guiltily studied her from the corner of his eye. So regal and honest was she, how had he ever caused her death? She was the embodiment of peace. Now after the terrible deed had been done, now as he sat here, he realised he wanted what she had wanted just as much as she did. But he had gone about it the wrong way, caused too much suffering. The hostilities he got from the camp were reminders of this. The 2 years he had served under Zanth was reminder of this. But most importantly, the broken woman beside him, was all the proof he needed to see that he had truly gone down the wrong path.

Gangrel had no idea behind the reason why Emmeryn held such weight with him, but sitting beside her, talking to her, was all too much. More than he deserved. He rose without a word and made for an exit. He didn't even get as far as leaving the table.

"Please… stay with me. I enjoy… your company.

And so Gangrel sat, and he resumed his guilty studying of her while the mess hall began to empty around them.

**So ends Chapter 2. We still haven't hit the main part of the story yet, as we first need to get Gangrel in the good books for that. And that will be hard! If you have any suggestions or something I need to improve on, please leave a review to let me know. I also have my main pairings already taken, but if you want any more pairings for any other character, leave them in a review also and I'll see. FT.**


	3. Chapter 3

Her embrace was warm, and oddly comforting. Her arms wrapped around him, and secured in her embrace, he tentatively hugged her back. She smelled of exotic wild flowers, and her hair was soft to the touch. Around them, what shepherds witnessed the scene, stood dumbstruck. Gangrel allowed himself a moment in their shoes to grasp the irony of the situation before he returned to the pressing issue, which happened to be a rather happy Emmeryn.

"Thank you for today, it was… very pleasant for… me. I hope we may… be able to spend more time together."

"As you wish Milady." With that, Emmeryn disentangled herself from the trickster and entered her joint tent she shared with Lissa.

Embarrassed, Gangrel walked away from the scene, brushing past the Feroxian Swordsmaster who was still looking at him then at the tent that the former exalt had entered. He wasn't used to feeling embarrassed, as he had never been in a position quite like he had been in today. He began to traverse through the campsite, the layout unfamiliar as they had left their last place of encampment a week before. His tent, though still a ways away from the shepherds, now mingled with other tents in the camp. Gangrel entered the lane his tent was located in, to see the young princess of Ylisse laid against his tent. Knowing that she would want a report of what had occurred today, he walked straight past her, leaving his tent flaps billowing in the breeze as she scrambled from the ground to follow him inside.

"How did it go Gangrel? What did you do? Where did you ta…" Gangrel, expecting this onslaught, ended the tirade immediately.

"Enough with the pestering, woman! The day was fine, Emmeryn is fine, that is all that concerns you."

Lissa, who hadn't expected to be cut off immediately, was taken aback but Gangrel's abruptness. Sure, she knew he was one to keep to himself, but this was her sister they were dealing with.

"But Emmeryn does concern me Gangrel, she is my sister just as much as you are her "friend." Lissa put emphasis on friend, knowing that Gangrel wouldn't take offense to the loosely used title Emmeryn had placed on him. "So if you don't mind, I would at least like to know how she was today, so I can report back to the healers."

Gangrel sighed, there was always something out there that could put a damper on a good day, and it looked as if the blonde haired princess was the cause for today's.

"Emmeryn was fine, I am fine, Her speech impairment seems to be getting better, there weren't any old memories resurfacing today, and yes, she had fun. Is that all?" Gangrel adopted a gruff tone in an attempt to shoo the woman from his tent. Needless to say, he was quite surprised when Lissa got the hint.

"I guess its been a long day for you, that should be enough to add to the report, if not I can grab more details off of you tomorrow morning. Thanks Gangrel." With that, Lissa left the tent, with a grunt from Gangrel telling her he understood.

Stepping out of his tent, he looked towards the sky. Judging by the placement of the sun, he estimated that it would at least be another hour until the mess tent would be open. Walking back into his tent, he removed his boots and trickster's tunic and groaned as he sank onto his bedroll. No matter how enjoyable a day with Emmeryn seemed, he challenged anyone to lay in the same position for hours without getting stiff. Thinking back on the day, he ruefully realised that it never seemed to bother the graceful woman he spent hours each day with.

Days. Days which Gangrel would never have thought he would experience. It had been a bit over two months since he had joined the shepherds now, and while he wouldn't say that he was fully welcomed, he wasn't getting the hostile glares he had come to expect from the army on a daily basis. Stretching on the bedroll, Gangrel grinned. Life was a lot better with the shepherds, that much was for sure. But he would never admit it to Chrom, or even worse, the all smiling Tactician. He had soon come to realise his greatest challenge was to try and outsmart Robyn at any chance he was a hard thing to do for sure, and he hadn't yet succeeded, but nevertheless he tried. After all, once the Shepherds had no use of him, he would have to move on, return to Plegia and set a stable rule over the war torn country. A rule he would love to share with the company of the brand new Grand Tactician of Plegia, if he could convince Robyn. His plans to outwit Robyn hadn't been very successful at all, with Gangrel failing across the board. The biggest obstacle in the path of his plan however, was only a recent addition.

It had only been four days since Libra, the head healer and War Priest of the Shepherds had come to visit him. The healer wasted no time in informing Gangrel of the rehabilitation plan set out for Emmeryn, a plan which revolved around Gangrel entirely. At first, Gangrel had tried to escape whatever plans were in front of him, as being in the presence of the fair haired woman still had a profound effect on him. But the War Monk wasn't having any of it, and explained explicitly how Gangrel was the only one so far that seemed to be speeding up Lady Emmeryn's healing process. With his back against the wall, Gangrel had accepted the rehabilitation process as something that must be done. He was required to spend ample amounts of time with Her each day, whether it be amongst other people, or in a quiet location. The process was simple, if Emmeryn seemed to be getting better with the Trickster around, keeping said Trickster around Her all the time should yield results.

There could only be a limit to how comfortable a bedroll on solid ground can be, and Gangrel was at this stage in his relaxation period in his tent. Reflecting on the bed of grass Emmeryn and he had lain in all day, his thoughts returned to the day he had just spent in her company. Unlike others, being in Her presence was different, you weren't pressed to conjure conversations like a magician, or aimlessly walk around. Ironically, Emmeryn was one of few words, and because of this, it was rather pleasant to just follow her all day and do as she wanted. If by chance, she asked a question, he would answer it to the best of his ability, but as it were, not many questions had been asked. Today had been the first day they had been off on their own, and Gangrel, not wanting to be alone with the exalt for obvious reasons, had tried to convince her to stay amongst the camp. Emmeryn, with nary a worry however, dragged him out of the camp to walk through the hunter's paths in the woods bordering the camp. They had found a large clearing not too far along the track, and there they spent the day, laying in the grass, watching the sky. Surprisingly, as they made it back to camp, no questions were asked of the absence, and this pleased Gangrel to no end.

Off in the distance, Gangrel heard the camp bell ring once, a signal that the mess tent was now open to inhabitants of the camp. Stomach rumbling, Gangrel made his way to the tent, passing many of the off duty soldiers and shepherds along the way. Sir Frederick, diligent as ever, was lording over the masses, directing the crowd through several of the openings to minimise the chaos inside. Waiting his turn, He glanced around, spotting the Tactician and his now to be wife. As much as he had disdain for the woman, Gangrel was glad to see a genuine smile on her face, rather than the forced ones he had known for so long. This thought took him down a more serious one. Companionship. Gangrel hadn't realised how much he desired companionship until the Shepherds enlisted him in their ranks. Seeing the Shepherds themselves bonding over each battle, whether it be as friends or as love interests, really struck him. He didn't know why, and he didn't really want to know, he wasn't one for sentimentality after all, but he couldn't deny that he at least wanted to be a part of it.

As the line moved up, he felt a nudge on his left elbow, as if someone were trying to push in. Snapping around, as if to berate the offender, Gangrel quickly turned it into a stumble, as it wasn't some impatient soldier trying to get to his meal, but rather the orange haired Assassin of the Shepherds.

"I've been asked to inform you that you are required at the Shepherds meeting tent after dinner, whenever that may be. There will be others waiting for you, so do not hold them up." the message was delivered matter of factly and with as little emotion as the assassin could muster. with the message delivered, he quietly sank back into the crowd.

Wondering what was required of him now, he moved up in the line, closer towards the smell of what could only be the product of the wife to the aforementioned assassin. Just thinking about it was spoiling his appetite.

0o0

Feeling hungrier than he had been before entering the mess tent, Gangrel left and made his way to the Shepherds meeting tent. The lack of the fair haired Exalt in the mess tent was also curious, perhaps she had fallen asleep and not heard the bell? Whatever the reason, Gangrel found he had more pressing matters, as the light inside the destination tent reflect the bodies of several of the shepherds, all wearing armour and carrying weapons of some sort.

Upon entering the tent, all eyes turned to Gangrel, He could count eleven of them, not including the Tactician, as Robyn was clearly not as battle ready as the others.

"I see you made it Gangrel, I'm glad you could. Please take position around this table here," at that, Robyn gestured towards the huge wooden table dominating the interior of the tent. On the table lay a huge map, more than 3 metres a side. The map was constructed of a soft felt, and covering the map were little coloured markers, which stuck to the map rather well. Everyone's attention seemed to be focused on a red marker situated close to the border of Ylisse/Plegia, which, going by the detail on the map, seemed to be a swamp or marsh land of some sort.

Taking his position next to the Feroxian Swordsmaster, (whose name still didn't seem to come easily to mind) Robyn bought Gangrel up to speed.

"Earlier this morning, we had a horseman assail us from the barricades of our encampment. He told a dire story of a village under siege from the undead. Taking recent years into consideration, we deemed it fair to assume this is just a concentrated group of Risen. The horseman himself had sustained claw like injuries to his side, and is currently being treated in the infirmary. he said there didn't seem to be more than thirty of the monsters, and so we are dispatching a group of Shepherds to survey and eradicate the threat to the village. According to the rider, many of the families have locked themselves in the town keep, which is a stone structure, but supplies are running low. The journey is a little over two and a half hours if you ride well. There are twelve of you, you will each be split into three's which compliment your strengths and weaknesses. As for the question you have all been dying to ask, Gangrel here is accompanying you, as we have not done a battle assessment on him yet, and no matter what he has previously done, he is among the shepherds now, we hunt and fight as a pack." Robyn gave a brief meaningful glance to the members in the room, before turning around and walking to a mounted slate in the corner of the room.

"I have already divided you into your groups, and they are as follows…"

0o0

Wind whipping by, and the dull thunder of hooves on dry grass was all that accompanied the shepherds as they rode into the setting sun, each group rode together, and Gangrel found himself with Lon'Qu the Swordsmaster and Mariabelle the Valkyrie. It was made very clear to the group that both the healers (Mariabelle and a beautiful War Cleric by the name of Cherche) were to be kept as safe as possible, as any healing needed could only be dealt by those two. Cherche had made it very clear she wasn't hanging back, and the Valkyrie mirrored her sentiment. Robyn, who seemed to have an infinite amount of resources, was able to locate a map of the town in question and its surroundings. The town was bordering a huge marsh like area, and the village itself had a fast flowing river running through the centre. Each group was to assess the village from different angles, and they had reached the part of the journey where each separate group went their own way.

Gangrel's group was charged with surveying the marshy western side of the town. As the ground got impassable for the horses, they dismounted and tethered them to the surrounding trees, before moving in on foot. The experienced Sorceress of the Shepherds (Tharja was her name) was placed in group 3, and she was telepathically communicating with each group. It wasn't long before each group got into position around the Village, and the sight was a sorry one to behold. There was none of that fiery dramatic crap like Gangrel had seen as the King of Plegia, Instead, the buildings of this town were shredded to pieces. with the moon high in the sky, it was rather easy to locate corpses of fallen villagers in the main street. But what worried the Trickster, was the lack of shambling monsters.

"All teams report your findings," came the dulcet tone of the dark haired woman in his mind.

"Group 1 has east side covered, town is in shambles, bodies can be seen, but no Risen. Report end."

Gangrel's group was next, and Lon'Qu volunteered to supply the information.

"Group 2 has west side covered. Buildings are ruined, bodies lay strewn in the street, west side of the keep has light spilling from the windows, but no sign of Risen. Report end."

"My group is covering north upon the hill, buildings intact, no bodies, no Risen." came Tharja's voice.

"Group 4 has south side covered, very much like Group1, Bodies, building damage no Risen. Report end."

With no sight of any risen, the Shepherds converged upon the town, walking down the wider streets with caution, approaching the central keep building. Upon meeting up at the entrance, they noticed that the large wooden door had been smashed open and breached. With knowing glances, the shepherds moved in, single file, weapons drawn. Mariabelle, pulling out a fire tome, lighting the area with a glowing red orb. They didn't find anything on the first floor, but the quarters above held a different story. Several villagers lay dead on the floor, in varying stages of dismemberment. the light which could be seen from the west came from a dying fire in the chimney grate. Kneeling down, Cherche gave a rapport.

"These bodies are still warm, not much, but in the night, it cools quickly! I would say the risen breached here less than an hour ago, just before we arrived."

The Swordsmaster whirled around and stalked down the stairwell, growling behind him, "If they have been here recently, the only cover in the immediate area to the village is the swamp, we head there now!"

No one argued, and Gangrel, sword drawn and eyes scanning warily, followed them through the town. With everyone on edge and hyper alert, the sound of horses neighing in distress was easily heard coming from the direction of the marshlands.

"We tethered or horses just beyond the marshlands, so as not to bog the poor beasts!" Gangrel exclaimed. Shepherds, already taut with tension, sprang towards the marshlands, the conjured balls of light leading the way. It was but 10 minutes into their dash before they came across what was left of the horses. blood and gore was splattered in a huge radius, with one of the beasts giving into its last breath as they approached. A clear trail of blood lead back into the marsh lands.

"My Ma always said not to enter woods at night, Mayhaps we wait until daybreak for reinforcements?" Donnel glanced warily in the direction of the trail.

"We do no such thing, We are shepherds, they are mere husks of beings, we make for the trail." Lon'Qu's deadly quiet voice was a little unnerving, to say the least.

"I'll continue to light the way ahead, and since no healing is needed as of now, I'm sure Cherche wouldn't mind lending her axe to the fighting," A confident Mariabelle sided with Lon'Qu.

Noting that Donnel was still apprehensive, Gangrel spoke up. "What Donnel says does have merit, perhaps if we were to split one group among the other three, making it four per group? Strength in numbers was my motto after all. It would also allow us to be more grouped instead of spread out amongst the trees and mud."

"I like this plan, the Trickster has sound reasoning." With that, Lon'Qu put a hand on Gangrel's shoulder. "You show promise of reform."

With that decided, Donnel joined their group, and the three groups moved off into the trees. The trail was quite easy to follow, and the stench of blood and Risen was strong. The path curved off into the heart of the marsh, and the groups closed gaps to rejoin as one. The going was slow, but they could hear the grunts and snarls of the Risen now, due to the density of the trees, they could be close, or a large distance away, there was just no way of telling.

They journeyed on for another few minutes before a solitary arrow whizzed by. It was a spectacularly poor shot, but that didn't really matter. Up ahead, they had been making for a clearing, but that very same clearing appeared to be where the monsters were gathered. Snarls arose into the night, the sound of Risen weapons clinking and the loud sighs of the entombed made it to the group. Hearing those sighs of the entombed explained the claw marks, Gangrel thought, as he gripped his trademark Levin sword rather tightly. He had always disliked being caught in comabt, but that didnt mean he wasnt good at it, actually, in contrast, he was a rather efficient killer. He demonstrated this by flicking his Levin sword at a distant archer, and watched as the bolt that struck the Risen spread over his body, locking up the body muscles and effectively keeling the monster.

Brought out of spectating by the axe toting Risen in front of him, Gangrel spun into action, pirouetting on the spot to gain momentum, then springing forward at the axe bearer, a tried and true method to get past the effective range of an axe. The Risen; however, just snarled and butted him in the face. Stepping back, Gangrel took the defensive, dodging blows from the rather heavy axe. Around him, the others were engaged in combat, Tharja looking like a demon as deathly shadows swirled around her body. Barely dodging another axe blow, Gangrel baited the axe-wielder into another swing, where he stepped into the blow and shoved the Risen, with the monster off balance, Gangrel cut him down easily. But there were more to challenge.

Cherche was struggling against three of the monsters, barely dodging all three sword wielders as they pressed her defences. Wasting no time, Gangrel took the middle one from behind, using the jagged edge of his blade to hook under the side armour of the monster, using his sword to blast it into the left monster. Cherche, taking the initiative, easily dodged the remaining foe and brained it with her axe. Gangrel dealt with the two injured ones with two deft strikes of his weapon.

Finding himself in a lull, he looked around to see who needed assistance or to see if any other Risen were lurking. He just caught sight of the Swordsmaster dealing death to three Risen with as many quick strikes before Lon'Qu sheathed his blade and scanned the area. The estimated thirty Risen had been pretty accurate, with most of the clearing now full of the dispatched monsters. Donnel and Mariabelle were finishing off the last two, Maribelle striking a foe in the chest with a huge fireball, and Donnel stepping in with his huge silver axe to finish it off, they repeated the process for the last one.

With the clearing liberated, the Shepherds gathered to check for injuries and discuss the battle. The death count for the Risen was thirty six, but something wasn't quite ringing true for Gangrel. He dismissed it and payed attention to Lon'Qu who was giving orders.

"... and we heard back to the town. Once there we do a thorough search of the site and make sure there is no one to be helped, if we do find anyone, we give them whatever assistance, including bringing them back to camp if need be. Now let's move out, well done to all." His tone was as gruff as always, but there was a slight smile playing on the Master's lips, perhaps he had bloodlust, Gangrel wondered.

Lon'Qu walked by his side as they left the clearing, placing a hand on his shoulder as a sign to walk slower than the rest. "You fought well Trickster, very well indeed. Your skills are very refined, I will be giving a positive report at the debriefing." there was silence for a bit, as they were slowly getting further behind the main group, "I also must say that I had my doubts about you joining the Shepherds, but we all did when we accepted Aversa into the group as well. I can see that you genuinely regret your past decisions, and the way you fought tonight was the way us Shepherds fight as a whole. I wouldn't object to you becoming a shepherd now. Perhaps what happened to you in that two-year period was for the best."

Gangrel bit back at that, what did this whelp know of the hell he had endured? Nothing was worth those two years. "I'll have you know that I'd have rather died than endure that fate, it was worse than hell! for one who knows nothing about the events, you can certainly give your opinions. I don't need any sympathy or congratulations. I work for my own atonement and not because of others biddings."

Lon'Qu was taken aback by the Plegian's response, his good intentions weren't meant to offend the Trickster. "My apologies, I was only giving credit where I felt it due. I did not mean to insult."

Realising that the Swordsmaster only meant well, Gangrel felt a little ashamed that he had bitten back so fast. "Gah, don't pay mind to this mad king, my bark is worse than my bite gwahahahaha."

"Very well then, I suggest we rejoin the main group then."

"You go on ahead, I'll catch up."

"Very well then."

The group leader broke into a sprint and rejoined with the group about forty metres ahead of Gangrel. With only his mind as company, he mused on the words of the Feroxian. So even Aversa had been shunned when she had joined the ranks of the shepherds? This amused Gangrel more than he cared to admit, the thought that she had been accepted gave Gangrel hope that he would too. He caught himself on that thought, why did he even care anyway? Perhaps the Mad King wasn't as mad after all, maybe he just wanted company? It was an odd thought to comprehend, but he had more pressing concerns.

Concerns that had just registered. Before the chaos had broken out, he distinctly remembered hearing the sighs of the entombed. He didn't remember seeing any in the clearing, nor among the dead they had counted. He felt a cold shiver go down his spine, and he only became aware of the foul stench in the air. He looked ahead, the group was now at least over fifty meters in front. Without a second thought, Gangrel launched himself into a run, unsheathing his sword in the process, but it was too late. Off to his right, the bushes parted and a loud groan followed the huge behemoth as it launched itself at Gangrel.

"Shepherds, Entombed!" Gangrel shouted ahead, before parrying the monsters claw with his sword. The sheer force of the monster almost buckled him however, and guessing by the sigh he heard from behind, there was another entombed behind him. The shepherds themselves, spun around and saw the scene, two entombed, one locked in combat with Gangrel, the other shambling Gangrel's way. They broke into a sprint.

Gangrel ducked the incoming claw, and slashed back, opening a cut in the monster's side, it groaned but continued its assault, battering down his defences swipe by swipe. Getting desperate, Gangrel jumped onto the monster's arm as it next swung, then vaulted onto the monster's shoulder, where he plunged his sword into the entombed's skull, before activating his sword and blasting a bolt through its cranium. Gangrel was thrown from the dead husk and landed awkwardly on the ground, the second beast within striking distance. He tried to rise, but felt the searing pain of being struck in the side. Gangrel stumbled before being picked up in the behemoths huge fist and flung into the trees. He felt the harsh impact of his body hitting a thick branch, before splashing into the swampy marsh below. Everything turned black...

0o0

The shepherds were almost upon the scene before the events unfolded. With Gangrel flung somewhere into the trees, Donnel immediately followed. The others converged upon the entombed, shredding it to pieces within seconds.

**How was this chapter for you guys? It was a difficult one to write, as nailing Gangrel's personality is hard when the goal of the story is to change him. Please tell me what you think down below. Happy reading. FT.**


	4. Chapter 4

The heat of the sun bearing down upon the sand dunes, the shimmering heat which gave the illusion of a mystical place, and the figure which trudged over the dunes and through the sands. Exhausted, out of energy, he collapses. The wind is picking up and a sandstorm is brewing, there is nothing he can do. He is tired and parched, the heat saps his strength. The wind grows more ferocious and the sands of the desert start to shift with the wind. Already sand is piling around him. A desert burial, a grave of sand. Breathing is becoming more difficult, he is breathing in sand. His legs and arms have already disappeared. The searing heat of the sand burns him, but he can't move. He watches as his upper legs, pelvis and stomach disappear. It is too much for him and he passes out.

He comes to and faces the roiling black clouds of a thunder storm. He tries to move, but his body is buried under the sands. Somehow only his face is free. Water strikes his face. Just one drop. Then another. And another, until the skies open up and the deluge begins. Water cascades from the sky, flowing down the dunes and into the valleys between them, where he lays. Water is washing away the sand, but he fears that he will now drown. He can feel the water rising up his neck, then creeping up the underside of his chin, before cresting the top and rising to just below his lips. He breathes only through his nose now, now weighed down by sand and water. Flashes of light and booming thunder surround him. He accepts his fate and waits for the end. He has done terrible things, and now the gods will take their vengeance, creating Gangrel's own personal hell to take his life. He can no longer open his mouth now without taking in water. He closes his eyes, perhaps for the final time. He lays there, no longer hot, but now cold.

And then there are hands, pulling him from his sandy grave. Hands that are soft and pull him with a gentle strength. He opens his eyes, and She is standing above him with a gentle, caring smile as she pulls him to his feet. Terror grips him and he starts to panic. She keeps her smile on her face as her body deteriorates before his eyes and turns into one of those risen creatures. He flails his arms, but to no avail. And then suddenly he is flailing, falling, like he himself is plummeting to the hard ground below…

0o0

"How's he holding back there, Donnel?"

"Bandages be soaked in blood Cherche, how long till camp fall?"

"Best we hurry then; I estimate about forty minutes from camp…"

0o0

He is kneeling next to her, in a courtyard filled with the remains of a great dragon ages past. She lay's there, hair fanned out in a flowing pattern from her broken body. Time seems to have left this plane, as everything around them is in a state of pause, arrows launched from bows frozen in mid-flight, Pegasus knights in a never ending fall from grace, their lives no more, and the soldiers in the courtyard stuck mid strike through whatever action they were about to perform.

Tears are streaming down his cheeks and falling onto Her, but she still does not move. She is lying face down, so he rolls her over to look upon her face. He is not prepared for what he sees. Bone protrudes from much of her body, caused by the impact of hitting the ground. Her hands, which were clasped together and held against her chest when she fell, are a mess. Her face is nigh impossible to recognise. He backs away out of horror, so disgusted as to what he has caused. So fast does he scramble backwards that he feels a sharp pain between his shoulders. Looking down, he realises that he has backed into a frozen soldiers' outstretched sword. His vision dims…

0o0

"I see you're back Lon'Qu, how fared the mission?"

"No time for trivial matters Robyn, fetch a healer immediately, Gangrel is gravely injured and is slipping away"

"I'll grab a healer, but continue moving him towards the healer's tent."

With the Tactician gone, the party moved slowly forward, a single horse with a rider slumped in the saddle trotting forward.

0o0

A cloudless sky, a sea of grass, an open plain as far as the eye can see. Trees are scattered, never more than two in any one spot. He is lying down; he doesn't know why. He sits himself up, ready to stand, something doesn't seem quite right. His body feels sluggish, his bones weary. His skin looks leathery, wrinkled. He dismisses it and stands, surveying the landscape. Attached to the sheath on his belt is his Levin sword, but it looks worse for wear. Yet again, Gangrel dismisses it. Perhaps his mind is playing tricks, he can't remember the last time he ate. Not too far into the distance he can see what appears to be a tent. it's a whiles away, but a lot closer than anything else. He sets off for it.

Gangrel isn't even an hour into his walk before he feels fatigued, he is unsure why. Another hour's journey and he feels like he may collapse. He allows himself a rest. A short rest. At the three-hour mark, he is gasping. But he can see he is over half way there. Not long to go. At the four-hour mark, he knows something dreadful is happening. His legs are shaking, he is heaving, and the position of the sun has not changed. What also appeared to be a tiny tent in the distance now seemed to be a hand carved rock formation. He is almost there. At the five-hour mark, he has a mere two hundred meters to go. The formation was a raised platform of some sort, nigh a meter high. But he doesn't know if he'll make it, he is dehydrated, thirsting for water. He does not feel hungry, that passed an hour ago. Taking another rest, he pulls his blade out, the sunlight glinting off the very tip of the blade, the rest a turmoil of rust and tarnished steel. He turns the blade to look at the other side when his reflection catches him, an old man staring back. Orange hair well on the way out, sunken eyes, and blotched dry skin. Fumbling, Gangrel drops the sword and feels his face, noticing the wrinkle lines. He plucks a hair, mostly grey. Panicking, he stands, adrenaline coursing through him, he makes the last leg of the journey to what now appeared to be an open, raised grave. Panting, he leans on the lip and looks in, and inside. Laying peacefully, hands clasped was Her. Oh how horrendously disfigured she was. Open wounds, broken bone, and splattered facial features. All weathered by the beating sun. He collapses, despair coursing through him. He is nowhere, but somewhere, alive, yet consumed by time. He openly weeps.

The sound of a weapon clinking alerts him. Rising, he can see an army of Risen, as far as the eye can see. They stand motionless now, but he knows they will soon spring into action. Behind him lays Her, and a feeling of protectiveness fills him. No matter the cost, he must guard the tomb. And so he does. When they came, they drove in hard. Gangrel, relying on instinct and fast reflexes, was dismayed to find that his body could betray him, the body unable to handle the stress. Barely ducking a blow, he takes things more slowly, each Risen a personal challenge to be beaten. However, every slash he takes, he can feel the life ebb from him. Strangely, the Risen, war mongers that they were, were not entirely capable of fight. They attacked in hordes, but posed no threat, with hardly a single weapon swing after the first wave close to injuring him. There is soon a gap, and Gangrel glances behind him. Emmeryn, who had been horribly disfigured, now lay with barely a blotch on her skin. In contrast, Gangrel could see and feel his skin turning brittle, and when clearing his eyes, a clump of his now white hair fell from his head. It dawned quickly; every strike of his weapon took life from him and gave it to Her. Grimacing at whatever curse he had been struck with, he faced down the hoard, which had begun to re-assemble and head back in his direction. If this was his fate, then so be it…

0o0

"Libra, we need more washed cloths, this infection is spreading at an alarming rate!"

"Yes Cherche, but don't you think you should rest for a while sweetheart, and let another healer take over, after all you were on a field mission, you must be tired?"

"I'm fine Libra, I don't leave a patient while he can still draw breath, now get me those god damned washed cloths before I revoke my vows and have Minerva deal with you!"

"Yes darling!"

Turning back to Gangrel, Cherche applied pressure to the infected wound. Whatever had been on the claw of that entombed or in that swamp, was very fast acting to cause an infection at such a speed. Cherche had never seen the likes of it. She grunted, she missed the old days of maidenwork and being a wyvern rider. Clearing away the muck she had just removed from the wound, she applied the last clean cloth to the wound. They had managed to stop the bleeding with a staff, but the infection was another matter. Underneath her, Gangrel moaned and twitched. Looking down sympathetically, she wondered what a madman dreamed about.

0o0

The first thing Gangrel felt, was a throbbing pain on the left side of his body. A dull pain, along his ribs and stomach. Cracking his eyes open, he hissed against the bright lanterns illuminating the area and slitted his eyelids. Adjusting to the light, he could tell he was laying on his back, with the white cloth of a tent above him. A white tent as large as this one seemed could only mean a medical bay. Attempting to turn, he hissed again, in pain this time. His whole left side was bandaged heavily, and the smell of ointment clung to the air. And then it all came rushing back, the mission to rescue the town, the hunt for the Risen, and then the desperate battle to fend off the entombed. Gangrel remembered the searing pain when the second behemoth got him in the chest; he reasoned that must be why his left side was bandaged so heavily. Feeling exhausted, but strangely restless, Gangrel propped himself up in bed and slowly recounted the events. He had plunged into the marshland, so obviously someone had rescued him, and then transported him back to camp. Content with his own answers, he closed his eyes and waited.

It wasn't long before he heard the swish of the curtain hanging over his bay being pulled back and someone entering. Opening his eyes, he spotted the blonde haired Valkyrie who appeared to be carrying cloths. After she had laid the cloths on the table beside the cot, Maribelle turned to see a wide awake Trickster looking back at her.

"You look quite adorable in a nurse's tunic," his tone, which was quite light, heavily contrasted her scowling features after the remark.

"Don't get any funny ideas; I'm just here to change your bandages. Wouldn't want that to get painful now, would we?" Gangrel, who picked up the thinly veiled threat, answered meekly.

"No, ma'am."

"Good, now lay still while I do this, you had a serious infection for the last three days, but we've managed to clear it up."

Startled, Gangrel exclaimed rather loudly, "Three days? I've been out for three days?"

Before Maribelle could answer, a yawn sounded from Gangrel's left. Since he had not been able to put stress on his left side, and Maribelle was at the wash basin on the right, he had failed to notice the sleeping woman in the chair by his bedside. Now, waking from said sleep, this person spoke up.

"Gangrel, you're awake!" the voice, laced with sleep, was ever so soft, and it was very clear who it belonged to.

"Good evening lady exalt, may I assist you with anything?" Dropping the washcloths the cleric had been holding, Maribelle rounded the bed to the exalt's side.

"I am…fine, but Gangrel here hasn't had a bandage change...in 5 hours, perhaps he needs assistance?"

"I was in the process of changing his dressings M'lady."

"You needn't bother; I shall do the dressings...myself."

"M'lady, that isn't required…"

"I insist, Maribelle, isn't it?"

"Yes M'lady. Very well, here are the washcloths; you may find bandages next to you, as well as the ointment. Are you sure?"

"I seem to remember the method, I shall be fine."

A mute Gangrel watched the scene, still stuck on the three-day business. That was quite the time to be out for. The swish of the curtains opening and closing alerted him to Maribelle's leave. Emmeryn for her part was stretching just at the very corner of his vision. As she walked around the bed to gather the cloths, Gangrel let out a pained laugh. The exalt had a bad case of bed hair, but with his injuries centred around his chest area, each laugh racked him with pain.

"Is something funny Gangrel?" her question, so sincere made him laugh some more. Raising his right hand, he pointed to the mirror above the basin, and watched as realisation dawned on her face. With a frown on her face, she faced him.

"Your hair isn't too well kept either sir, you have hardly the right to be teasing me." donning a smile, she pulled his sheets back to reveal his bare chest. Deftly, she peeled back the bandages with practiced movements, discarding them. Swabbing the wound clean with alcohol, Gangrel hissed in pain. He could see the 4 jagged claw incisions into his flesh, and the discolouration around the wound. It dawned on him that if those claws had gone any deeper, his heart may have been ruptured and he may have died. He didn't have much time to think after that, as the alcohol swab then moved over the jagged cuts yet again. Following the swab came the application of the ointment, which must have had a numbing agent included, because he started to feel less pain within a minute of its application. Finally, Emmeryn re-bandaged the wound with clean cloth and bandage.

"Thank you M'lady."

"Please Gangrel, I have a name."

Not knowing how to respond to that, he lowered himself from his sitting up position back into resting position. Still feeling rather sleepy, He closed his eyes, with the last image being Her hand as it reached out for his while she sat by his cot-side.

0o0

"Gangrel, I now want you to lift your left hand as high as you can, yes, just like that. Now lower it half way and stretch forward. Good good, now make a circular motion, much like a mill, like that…"

"Gahh, I can't, I'm sorry." Gangrel grunted in pain. With his wounds healed, he was now in rehabilitation to get the muscles working. Anna, the Shepherd's resident merchant, also happened to know a thing or two about muscular therapy. Staves had allowed Gangrel to heal his wounds a mere two days after he woke up, with the third day (today) spent doing therapy. His left side was still sore to manoeuvre in certain ways, and doing this circular motion was one of them.

"I'm going to have to get you to do it cutie, it is the only way to get back to fighting fit!" Anna's cheeriness was extremely irritating, grinding down his restraint bit by bit. As he forced his arm through the motions, he gritted his teeth, remembering a time where he would have snapped at the slightest provocation. Finishing his motions, he looked Anna in the eye and dared her. She gave him a smile.

"And again Ginger boy, keep up the good work!"

Forcing a smile, he continued his exercises, finding it ever so slightly less painful each time.

0o0

Walking into the mess hall that night, Gangrel realised it had been just under a week since he had eaten a proper meal. The meals given to him in the medical tent had been barely warm, and very small in the serving portions, with most of his intake being fluids to help replenish the blood he had lost. Making his way to the serving area, he was immensely pleased with the sight of a few roasted boars, knowing he would eat well tonight. Taking his platter to his usual table towards the far end of the tent, he sat and surveyed the crowd. The soldier's numbers had swelled a little in size, as reinforcements from Regna Ferox had arrived. These wild men had yet to get used to the way of camp life with such a large army, and were bickering amongst themselves at what they felt was meagre portions. Towards the right hand side sat the Shepherds, still as wild as ever, gesticulating and laughing amongst themselves. For a second he felt a pang of longing, glancing at his empty corner, he wished he too could share their mirth. Sighing, he resigned himself to the facts, he was still he outsider, and for good reason. A half piled platter was gently placed on his table a minute later, Emmeryn taking her seat beside him. It had become common for them to sit and survey the tent over the last few weeks, hardly sharing a word, and eating in silence.

Tonight seemed like a repeat, with him acknowledging her presence with a greeting, and she returning, only for the silence to resume. With his platter finished, and a contented Trickster reclining in his chair, the fair haired exalt broke the silence.

"It is nice to see you up and about; it worried...me to see you so pale and sickly. How do you feel?"

Not used to table talk, Gangrel only realised she had been talking to him as she had concluded her sentence. Scrambling his memory, he could piece enough of it together to form an answer.

"Thank you M'la, I mean Emmeryn," he caught himself there, she had been very strict on that lately, "I have been well, my rehabilitation with the red haired she-demon is finished, I am to continue the exercises for the next few days on my own however."

"Anna is a nice lady Gangrel, she is not a demon."

Feeling petty, he retorted, "I'll have you know that she is, she just hides that side from you well."

"Anna always gives me free hair pins when she received... them in stock, she is lovely, end of story."

"Well…." Realising how childish this must sound, he cut the conversation short, "we shall both agree to disagree." With that, both sat in silence again.

Looking towards the Shepherds table, he watched as the group conversed and ate, noting the little friendships that were formed. His eye drew to the centre, where the blue haired prince sat with his close friends. The tactician was busy teasing Aversa, using a wind spell to whip her platter through the air, out of reach. The laughter could be heard across the noisy tent, and even Gangrel found himself with a slight grin. His eyes flickered back to Chrom's only to find his gaze locked with the princeling. Chrom held the stare for a few extra seconds before leaning over and talking to Frederick, who nodded and stood from the table. Gangrel, curious as to what had just occurred, looked to see if Emmeryn was watching. The exalt was playing with a hair pin, fancily embroidered with glimmering stones. Turning back, he watched as the ever watchful knight made his way towards Gangrel, excusing himself at each accidental bump. Standing, Gangrel made his way to meet him, telling Emmeryn he would be back. He met with the other man a few meters from Emmeryn.

"Can I help you Sir Frederick?"

"Stand easy Gangrel, I only have a message to deliver. Lord Chrom would like to meet with you tomorrow morning in the Shepherd's barracks tent. Personally, I do not believe there to be any trouble, I think he wishes to talk with you of recent events."

"Understood, was there a specific time?"

"I will fetch you when the time arises, so please be sure to either be in your tent, or if breakfast is served, here in the mess tent."

"Understood."

The two men split, Frederick back to his table, and Gangrel to his tent, sidetracking to say goodnight to Emmeryn.

0o0

Gangrel had always been a morning person. As a child he had always clambered the battlements of the Plegian castles to watch the morning progress across the courtyard. Since Plegian days were so hot, Gangrel had loved the cool breeze the mornings would bring. As such, he found himself outside his tent watching the clouds scuttle overhead when the clinking of knight's armour brought him to his senses. Standing up and dusting himself off, he watched as Frederick zig zagged through the crowd of soldiers. Exchanging greetings, the two of them set off, with Frederick leading the way. The walk was uneventful, and upon arrival, he bid farewell to the knight and entered. Upon entering, he faced the Lord and the tactician, both of which were seated at the ridiculously long wooden table in the centre.

"Ahh, the man arrives!" Robyn greeted warmly, raising and guiding Gangrel to a seat in between both of the imposing men. Feeling a little apprehensive, Gangrel lowered himself into the chair whilst looking between both men. Robyn kept his smile, whilst Chrom remained impassive as ever. Looking to Robyn, He was startled when it was Chrom who begun the conversation.

"Medical reports say that you are fully healed Gangrel, would you agree with this?"

"Yes sir, I would."

"In normal circumstances I would ask for your debrief, but we don't debrief the wounded due to battle trauma. So instead, I would like to share the conclusions of the report. The town was searched in full daylight, and unfortunately no survivors were found. The rider, who notified us of the incident, died of his injuries a day after your return, nothing could be done but to elevate the pain. The clearing was searched, and it was deducted that the Risen were spawning in an unusual way, one we have yet to discover. We are currently investigating this. Lastly, detailed reports were handed in of the fight. Due to the heat of battle, each battle perspective is different." There is a long pause, Chrom popping the stopper of a waterskin and downing its contents before continuing.

"What doesn't change in each report is you, specifically the way you fought. You have not had drills with us, nor overseen one, as we took great pains to prevent you from doing so, however, you fought side by side as if you had practiced with us. You even went as far as to join a fight that you didn't have to join, in order to rescue a Shepherd. This is not forgotten easily, and Cherche fought to save your life in thanks. And finally, not only did you take three Risen out in quick succession; you took down an entombed singlehandedly." Chrom looked over to Robyn and gestured.

"Gangrel, you have been a member of these forces for 10 weeks now, enough time for us to gauge your personality, and whether or not you have changed. Your reception was not ideal, and far from welcoming, however, you have shown promise, and all Shepherds have seen. You are not the man you once were, your work with Lady Emmeryn is exemplary, her recovery has accelerated tenfold with you around. But more than anything, your actions on that mission a week ago, shows you to be a Shepherd. From today onwards, your past is irrelevant; we have accepted Shepherds as our own when they have caused grief in years passed, my wife is testimony to this. A vote was held recently, to see if you becoming a Shepherd would be accepted, and the unanimous vote returned a large majority in favour of yes." beside him, Chrom stood up.

"Though what has been done can never be forgotten, it can be forgiven. As the Great Lord of the Shepherds, I would like to bestow upon you the duty of a Shepherd, and all it entails. Do you accept?"

Hardly daring to breathe, disbelief etched on his face, Gangrel rose to face Chrom.

"I accept the duty and all it entails. And I promise to fully atone." laughing, Robyn spun Gangrel around.

"What is to be atoned for, when all is forgiven?" With that, the two men lead Gangrel out the tent to the waiting Shepherds outside, where the celebrations began in earnest.

Later that night, as Gangrel sat in his tent, he heard some make footfall outside his tent. Calling out to let them in, He was surprised when Aversa ducked in. Dressed like usual, he couldn't see any reason to her visit.

"May I sit with you for a moment?" her voice, as quiet as it normally was, lacked the hostility he had always come to expect. Shifting slightly to make room, the Darkflier sat next to the Trickster.

"It took them 9 weeks to add me to their ranks. It was just after a heated battle with some Risen. I had seen Robyn in grave danger, and without thinking, I took the sword meant for him." Lifting her arm, Gangrel could see a thin scar etched upon her skin from the elbow to her shoulder. "Even then, I beat them back with a flurry of spells. They were so impressed, they overlooked my past and I became a Shepherd, it was sometime later Robyn and I first started dating. About 6 months ago, I remembered you in a dream, a dream I have lost the details to. But that got me thinking, if I could be reformed, couldn't you? So I suggested to the Shepherds that the Pirate King Zanth be taken down, for the safety of the villagers along the southern coasts. It was a ruse to see if you still lived, as four years had passed at that point. But there you stood, on the battlefield when we arrived. I'm sorry for what I did, but I'm glad I could repay the misdeed I gave you." Raising, she left without another word. Gangrel sighed, nothing was ever as easy as it seemed on the surface. Begrudgingly, he also accepted that the pale haired vixen wasn't half so bad anymore either.

**Hey guys, another update! I hope you like this one, as the first half of this was actually written as the first chapter before I decided to store it for a later chapter, which happened to be this one. FT.**


	5. Chapter 5

"Here they come again! Spears ready, and hold the line god damn you!"

"Yes sire, we will do what we can!"

"You'll need more than your best to beat these horrors back, now stay sharp." The sergeant, no more than a promoted militia-man, eyed the advancing line of cavalry riders. Behind the riders, he knew, would be several lines of axe and sword wielding foot soldiers. He didn't have the numbers, nor the equipment to take them front on, instead, he had to use his smarts.

"Archers, Position 2," behind and to the left of him, he could hear the 80 odd men notch arrows and bring their bows to the pre-defined elevation of the called position. Watching the riders come ever forward, he waited until they reached the line he had made in his mind's eye.

"Archers, Full draw, Frontline, Spears at the ready!" He heard the draw of bows, and the clinking as the spearmen lowered their weapons to face the oncoming undead.

"FIRE!" Bellowing the command, he grabbed his own sword from its scabbard and joined the frontline defence as a cloud of black arrows droned overhead. His call had been made well, and he saw a clustered group of Risen and their mounts tumble and fall, perhaps 30, removing about ⅓ of the horsemen from the conflict. He knew that the archer's next directive was to drop the bows and adopt their swords, making their way into the makeshift trenches that were hastily erected on the outskirts of the large town. Grimacing, the sergeant wished he had joined the Plegian Military. Perhaps if he had, he might have been able to train the towns and village folk better to face their current foe.

Their current foe, as it were, had narrowed the distance between them, and through the gaps they had made in the line of cavalry, he could see the forms of risen soldiers as they followed behind their mounted brethren. These risen would have to get through the first, second and third line of entrenched positions before they could make it to the town. But with over less than half of the risen numbers, the situation looked dire. The sound of hoof beats had now turned into a thunderous roar, and steeling himself for the impact the sergeant let out a battle cry, which was mirrored by the militia around him. The horsemen jumped most of the stakes set in place, before crashing into the line of spears. The air quickly became clouded in dust, and the cries of grunts of soldiers and risen alike were accompanied by the stench of the risen, and the metallic smell of blood. The sergeant lost all sense of focus, thrusting with his sword at the enemy, and from time to time, desperately trying to assess the situation. After several frantic minutes of engagement, it was clear that the risen had almost claimed the first trench. Though most of their cavalry lay broken and unmoving, their foot soldiers had poured into the fray, and the sheer numbers had overwhelmed the first line of men. Feeling a coward for leaving his men to die, but knowing there was no other choice, the sergeant dodged a swung axe, gutting the risen that had swung it, before clambering over the trench and making his way to the second line. As he went, he could clearly see that no others had followed him. He hung his head.

Arriving at the second line he turned to the man he had left in charge. "Is everyone here ready? They had better be, because pure hell is less than 30 metres away."

"Yes Sire, we are ready, however, we thought more than just you would have bolstered our numbers?"

"I was lucky to get away; I fear the others did not receive that luck." With the sounds of battle dying, he knew they didn't have long. But that didn't mean he hadn't thought this far ahead. "Archers, when they crest that trench, just fire until they either stop coming, or drop the bow and grab your sword before they pour into this one!" He had positioned 12 archers in this trench, they were to fire at the advancing risen as they tried to make their way across no-mans-land.

Focusing on the trench ahead, the sounds of weapons clashing had all but died, and the forms of risen could be seen clambering over the trench lines. The twang of bows begun, followed by a distant thud, as the soldiers watched risen after risen fall back into the first trench, their undead forms not affording them the grace to dodge and clamber from a trench. Inevitably however, the risen numbers outweighed the 12 archers, and the sergeant yet again readied for a clash. With an initial thrust of makeshift spears, the battle resumed, with soldiers falling under the weight of the undead as they jumped into the trenches. The battle was harder this time, with his muscles tiring, and exhaustion creeping in, the sergeant relied on his pure will to survive alone. Ducking and weaving, he fought side by side with the men beside him, men who fell as the minutes went on, and still they poured in. Ducking a wide blow, he stepped into the risen reach and ran him through, quickly withdrawing, lest he in turn be struck down. The body fell, and was quickly replaced with a new menace, each time proving to be an addition to the personal hell this town had been thrust into. Reacting fast to a quick axe strike, he sprung back, readying for a counter. The beast however, had different plans, and followed his momentum to deliver a deft strike to the back of the unsuspecting man the sergeant had been fighting back to back with. Growling in rage, he sprung, only to be slammed back by another risen. Frantically rolling away from the downward stroke of the new threat, he scrambled to his feet and vaulted the trench, bellowing for others to follow. This time, two followed him.

The final trench was their last defence. It consisted of 40 men and women, poorly armed, yet determined to defend their homes. Though two trenches had fallen, the risen looked worse for wear, numbering just over 60. The numbers though, were not enticing, and the sergeant knew the town was facing certain extermination. With no bow tactic this time, the group faced a gruelling last fight. They watched in silence, as the risen clambered a now lifeless second trench, and began their shambling run for the last trench. It was a larger distance, as the initial plan was to fit the last trench with archers, but they had had too little time to prepare for that. Roughly 100 meters separated the group, and it was closing fast.

"Stand tall friends, we'll give them hell if only in defiance!"

"Yes sire," the chorus wasn't so much of an answer as a resignation. Each knew that these moments would almost certainly be their lasts. To add to insult, the sergeant could hear hoof beats, coming from the west. Squaring his shoulders and readying his weapon, he realised it wasn't meant to be.

Fifty metres to go and he could see the sunlight glinting off their helms. At forty, he could see their red gaze. At thirty, he could smell the stench of war carried on the wind, and the dimming of sound as he zeroed in. Completely focused, at twenty he had forgotten about the sound of approaching riders, his only goal was set on a risen swords user, following his every movement. At ten, he could feel the ground reverberate, or was that his pulse? He raised his weapon, only to see his foes covered in a blinding dust. Cursing, and snapped from his reverie, he realised he could hear the deafening thunder of cavalry. At five metres, the risen faltered and faced west, only to behold the sight of the riders.

"Pick a god and pray deathless ones!" The voice, so strong it resonated across the trenches, had come from a great knight, clad in the armour of the revered Shepherds. Close behind was a detachment of 50 cavaliers, mounted knights and paladins.

Watching on in awe, the sergeant watched as the new arrivals breached the shambling mass of risen with practiced ease. They swept through the risen in a matter of minutes. Watching from the trenches, he finally lowered his sword, unable to believe his own eyes. Around him, the villagers too, lowered their weapons, scarcely able to believe the fortune they had been blessed with. Ahead, the Great Knight in charge dismounted, and made his way to the trenches.

"Though I was not able to witness it, I can tell you fought remarkably well," taking note of the unstained clothing that most of the last trench war, he corrected himself, "Or those who fought in the previous trenches. I can certainly tell though, that you would have given just as much." Gesturing behind him, the iron clad man called over the mounted healer that had accompanied the horsemen. "If you have any injuries, Lady Maribelle here shall attend to you. We shall stay and assist in the chores that a battle leaves, as well as the gathering of those who were lost. I shall however, talk to the one who was put in charge here, if he so lives, that is."

Hoisting himself up and over the trench, the sergeant made his way to the knight's side, as his fellow townsfolk were ushered from the trenches to begin the mighty clean-up, assisted by the riders.

"I would be the town's Militia Sergeant M'lord. How may I be of service?"

"Forgive me in not introducing myself; I am Sir Frederick the wary, lieutenant of the Shepherds. Shall I have your name?"

Startled by who he was addressing, he hastily replied, "I-I am Voul Gorskarn M'lord, well met!"

"At ease Voul, I assume this trench setup was your idea?" not pausing for an answer, Frederick trailed off," Well implemented too, just enough distance for archers to fire down a killing lane, and the trenches afford a tiered defence… though it can be seen it wasn't used to its best." Lost in thought, imagining the first opening minutes of the engagement, he was brought back by the sergeants clearing of his throat.

*ahem* "Was there mayhaps something I could assist with M'lord?"

"Yes, I thought I would inform you that the elderly and the children made it safely to the city a day's ride to the east. We were alerted by horseman about the ailment that this region seemed to be suffering, and we came right away. I assume that these are all the villagers remaining?"

"Yes sire."

"And I was correct assuming that this was your planning, this tiered trench system?"

"Yes sire, though little good it did."

"Quite the contrary Voul, I must disagree, the evidence here suggests it was an unfair battle to begin with. I do believe your actions prolonged your town's survival. You are to be commended."

"Why thank you sire."

"I do not mean to disrespect, but have you family or ties to this town that remain?"

"No sire, my Ma and Pa passed in the great drought year's back, and I've never found a lass to marry, why do you ask?"

"You have great mettle, it would please me, and the shepherds to no end if you would allow us to enlist you amongst the ranks of the Shepherds army."

Looking behind him at the town that he had just saved, he saw no hope of rebuilding. The sheer loss of life would prevent the farms and other trades from running to a level of respectable produce. Returning to face the Great Knight, he answered. "It would be an honour, thank you Sire!"

Chuckling, Frederick clasped the man on the shoulder. "Don't thank me Voul, you've left one hell, and just entered another, but don't you worry, nothing a little fitness and weapons training won't prepare you for…"

0o0

"That is the third organised risen attack in as many weeks Chrom, I feel uneasy."

"As do I Robyn, as do I. Have we heard any new details?"

"A carrier pigeon arrived twenty or so minutes ago, Frederick and his detachment shouldn't arrive before too long for debriefing. On to other matters, the camp Quartermasters have submitted their fortnightly report. We are running low on weapon stocks and Wyvern feed. The Shepherds also have quite the personal list of equipment as well that must be gathered. Hopefully we may be able to run into a merchant along the way. I'm sure our Anna could come in handy."

Sighing, Chrom raised his eyebrows. "A personal equipment list is all well and fine, but what of the budget?"

"Don't forget the silver card, Chrom! Expenses have not been so heavy since we acquired it from Mus, and Bovis, and Tigris, and who was the next one? Oh yeah, Lep…"

"Gods Robyn, don't get me started. That place gave me the creeps, and you don't have to list their names every single time we talk about that world."

Laughing, Robyn countered, "But it's fun, they each have different names. I wonder if those were their real ones?"

Shaking his head, Chrom moved to the table and took a seat. Placing his head in his hands, he tried to counter the headache that was building. The combination of the Plegian heat, the threat of Risen, when there should be none, and his Tactician's taxing games, had given him quite the intense pressure build up behind his eyes.

"I couldn't care about the Deadlords right now; I am more interested in these risen. We defeated Grima, shouldn't the risen have been banished along with him? It was his arrival in our timeline that caused their birth, right?"

"Our earlier assumptions seemed to have supported this theory, yes, but as we have discussed countless times, with the recent outbreak of high threat risen, we must have been wrong. Sure, we had that 18 month gap between sightings of risen, but with their re-emergence, there has to be another factor in play."

"I know Robyn, it's just so stressful."

"I understand Chrom. Rest for a bit, I'll take care of the debriefing."

"Thanks, but I'll be there, I need to know firsthand as well."

Gathering his things, Robyn secreted them into his flowing robes. Feeling the weight added to his shoulders, he smiled. He would love to see people's reactions when they saw just what he could fit into his pockets. Passing through the flap in the Tactica tent, he felt the Plegian heat blast him, instantly weighing him down. Ignoring the heat, he continued down the lane, towards the Mess tent. It was just past mid noon, and he was hoping for a bite to eat. It was always amazing to see how alive a military camp could actually be, the noise of men practicing, or the sound of smithies working their trade. Or the general commotion of an argument. The last thought was tacked on as Robyn heard and zeroed in on what could only sound like a very heated argument between two parties. After a short walk, he came to one of the larger spaces kept free for sparring purposes. Two groups were facing each other in the clearing, one full of Feroxian axe wielders and the other a shepherd. Shaking his head, Robyn made his way over.

"Like hell a runt like you could take on 5 of us at the same time. You've a death wish boy!"

"Hah, you think I'd fail? The Vaike is stunned! I could take you all on with a hand tied behind my back. And with a bow no less!"

"Oh harr harr harr harr, hear that boys, he thinks he could outshoot me! Tell you what ya squig, I'll bet this here axe for your position in the shepherds, how's that sound?"

Robyn, who had been watching the exchange bemused, quickly stepped in at that.

"Now now, we won't be having any of that! Vaike, as much as you want to play, you are needed elsewhere, and don't you men have any chores to do? If not, then still, please disperse. This heat will get you killed!"

The Feroxians, always one to respect power, backed away immediately. "Yes of course Master Robyn."

Vaike however, was not so easily detained. "Hey bonehead, get back here, I want ya axe!"

"Enough Vaike, show your position, and not your mentality!" He noticed however, that the Feroxians continued, even after the slight cur chucked their way. Rather impressed, he turned and added insult to injury. "And plus, those men are the better men, they obeyed orders and backed down, something I must say you failed to do.

"But Rob, I never get my fun, the Vaike gets bored, ya know?" Mewling like a child, Vaike left to go sulk in some corner. Grinning, Robyn continued to his first destination, the mess tent. Making it inside, he sagged in relief, the glaring sun finally off his back. Making his way to the serving partition, he loaded his plate with whatever leftovers remained, making a note of Lon'qu and Say'ri who stood behind the counter. Knowing that the meal was destined to be more than edible, he hurriedly took his seat and dug in.

A couple bites into his meal, Robyn noticed two newcomers enter the tent, though still ironic, he couldn't say that the pair looked at odds together. From his seat, Robyn watched as Gangrel led Emmeryn to the counter.

"And you know what I always say to that Emmeryn, you need to eat."

"But I do not wish to eat."

"What a ridiculous excuse! Anything is better than nothing woman, now here, have this, if not only to have a small amount." exasperated, the trickster hurriedly placed a few choice food items onto a platter and handed it to the fair haired exalt, before grabbing his own platter and filling it with whatever remained.

"You fret too much, Gangrel. I can look after myself, you know."

"Not such a strong argument when I had to pull you from the clutches of a bear, because you wanted its honey."

"It should have shared!" With that statement of finality, Emmeryn left the trickster to sit at a table. The red head, still piling his plate, couldn't contain his laughter anymore and cackled.

"Share? You want a bear to share its food source with you? Kyahahaha, I should have made you my court jester whilst I had the chance!" Taking his platter, he too moved to the table his friend had chosen.

"That would imply you would ever have control over me." Smiling, she turned to see his reaction, only to become puzzled by his suddenly sour looking face.

"Yes, as if I ever would." picking at his plate, he had a few mouthfuls before pushing it aside. Emmeryn, who despite her protest, had finished her plate. Looking tentatively at his she asked him, "Why did you push it away? Was it something I said?"

"Gah, nothing like that, just an old fool stuck in his ways." Noticing her empty plate, and the way her eyes kept flickering to his, his face relaxed into a small smile. "I knew you were hungry Emmeryn, I heard your stomach before we came back to camp. You can't fool a fool."

Giggling, the sage hung her head. "Don't be so harsh though. You're fine."

"Hmmph. If only." Reaching out and nudging his plate towards her, he smirked as Emmeryn grabbed the plate and ate from it, with nary a worry.

After watching the exchange, Robyn marvelled at how well Emmeryn had come after being with the trickster. Her speech impairment was all but gone, and she was no longer childlike. Her memories however, had yet to return. But it wasn't just her that had changed, her influence on the trickster was nothing short of amazing. Some might have called it old age, but many knew he had become a better man because of her. Though still rash and to the point, Gangrel was a trustworthy and honest man. Leaving the exalt to eat, Robyn left the mess tent and headed towards the Tactica tent, that debriefing would be soon.

Say'ri, who had left the kitchens to collect the platters among the tables, observed the two. To her, she likened Gangrel to Walhart. Though the trickster's aims had not been as stoic as the Conqueror's, they both seemed to have reformed due to the people they surrounded themselves with. Smiling a little, she did find it funny that she would find love in the man whom had taken so much from her. Sometimes fate was a little weird in the ways it played out. Approaching to gather their platters, she noticed the intensity of the gaze between the two. Shrugging, she excused herself as she gathered what she had come for, time wasn't the only thing that healed wounds.

"Would you like to spend the rest of this afternoon and evening in our spot?"

"I would like that very much, Gangrel. And I won't bother a bear this time either."

Snorting, the trickster stood and offered to help Emmeryn up. Taking his hand, she rose, graceful as always. Striding through the mess hall flaps, the afternoon breeze caught the sage's robes, making them billow around her. Gangrel's tight fitting outfit felt like a blessing compared to her robes, and yet, Emmeryn seemed unfazed by the heat. Making their way through the camp, he felt at ease. As he had come to often realise these days, it felt nice to belong, to be a part of something big, to be respected for who he was. It was now almost 6 weeks since being made a shepherd, and though he had done his fair share of duties, raids and missions, he had also spent a large amount of time with the fair headed woman by his side. He remembered watching the bonds and feeling wistful, almost jealous. Being a part of a whole for once, it felt nice. Passing the guards on duty patrolling the edges of the camp, they made their way into the trees set back about two hundred metres from the camp. It had become a custom for them to find a clearing amongst the trees, or a large field to sit in. Sometimes she would ask questions and he answer. But for the most part, they sat in silence.

Today, they had spent the time leading to their midday meal chatting about the History of Plegia. Emmeryn was a great listener, and Gangrel told her many facts, and a few tales. She had then chased down a bear for its honey, and the two had run, all the while laughing. Sometimes at night, it scared him to see who he had become, but he reasoned that it was all for the better. This afternoon, it seemed Emmeryn was particularly adventurous, and wished to climb the large tree in the centre of the clearing. Resting against the base, they talked as she climbed, nothing of importance, just camp speculations and gossip.

"What do you suppose happened with Frederick yesterday Emmeryn? You think they got to that town in time?"

"I sure hope so, it would be a terrible loss of life otherwise."

"That it would be. I knew that town, it has been a hub for produce in this district for generations. It would be a terrible blow to the surrounding area if that town's produce was to stop."

"You know much of your people. You are a kind man."

Grunting at that, he replied. "We've been through this, I wasn't the man I am now. I am glad that I am no longer king, the land is probably better without."

Sighing, Emmeryn countered, "And I have told you countless times, that you are too harsh on yourself."

"I wouldn't be so sure M'lady."

With that, the conversation lapsed into silence.

Up above, he could hear her as she moved from branch to branch, surveying what could be seen. He was quite content on staying where he was however, resting against the trunk.

"You know, no matter the man you were before, you've changed. The shepherds accept you, so that is a good sign in of itself." Her tone, though light, weighed heavily on the trickster. He knew what he had done, he knew he was the reason she had no memories. But he just could not bring himself to say it. And apparently neither could anyone else.

Hearing a squeal up above, he stood and looked up into the trees. Spotting Emmeryn, he shook his head.

"And how do you suppose you'll get down from there huh?"

"I-I-I don't..know! I'm stuck Gangrel!"

Somehow, she had wedged herself into the uppermost branches of the tree, but in such a way as to make climbing back onto the lower branches a very hard task indeed. Though she wasn't far up, a fall would cause definite injuries.

"I can't climb up and assist you, I'm too heavy."

"I don't know what to do!" He could hear the panic in her voice, he knew she didn't like being in places where she couldn't move freely. Smiling ruefully, he realised it was probably that freedom of movement that had led to her current predicament.

Doing some fast calculations, Gangrel found a course of action.

"If you were to jump from that position, I could catch you. It shouldn't hurt too much. Is that ok?"

"J-Jump? But what if you miss?"

Laughing, he replied, "My whole outlook on combat is agility and skill over anything, of course I'll catch you, it'll be fine!"

"Ok then, I'm...ready!"

"Before you do, step a little to the left then go down, you won't hit any branches that way."

Making the correction, she stepped off the branch. A feeling of weightlessness overtook her body, and then she was falling. It felt so familiar, like it had happened before. She felt a pain in her temple, then a blinding white light took her vision. It was soon replaced by the barren landscape that the Plegian castle overlooked. She stood on a stone ledge, protruding from the castle itself. Below her she could see a battle, paused as new events unfolded. But what was stranger, was the fact that she was talking,

"...what you must... As I will do. See now that one selfless act has the power to change the world!"

"Emm, no! NO!"

"No reaction, was I wrong then? Haa, so be it…"

In mute horror, Emmeryn remembered every last detail, before she felt herself walk to the edge, and in doing so fall. His cackling could be heard as clear as day.

Returning to reality, she realised she was still falling, into the outstretched hands of him.

"I've got you!"

With a thud, she fell into his arms, the fall entangling them as he fell back. Realising who he was, and what he had done, she begun to panic, frantically scrambling, trying to get free. Gangrel, seeing something was off, grabbed her arm.

"Emmeryn, what in the blazes is wrong?" Her struggling ceased at his grasp, but her gaze told him all he needed to know. With him lying on his back, and she kneeling over him, her face was close, so close, he could tell every single detail and message her eyes betrayed. They spoke of fear, pain and suffering. Taking a long look, he knew he had been found out. Letting her go, she backed away fast, sprawling, but recovering quickly. Now sobbing, she continued to shake her head as she eyed him. Heart stopping, Gangrel felt dead inside. Like all the life he had held seconds before had been stolen from him. Her actions stung him to the core, but it was the fear and distrust in her eyes that cut him even deeper. With metres in between them, she took one last looked before running the path back to camp.

Her sobs still rung in his ears, hours later, as the dusk began to take its hold over the land. But it didn't bother him. Nothing did anymore. He lay there, in the same position, replaying over and over how she had looked at him, and the way she had run, as if Grima himself were hunting her down. It would be later still until he gathered the energy to stand and make his way back to camp. But by then, there was nothing left. Though the man may have resembled Gangrel, the man inside him was dead, and nothing but a shell remained.

**Hey guys, FT here. I am so glad to get this chapter out. This is the big one that I was leading up to. While it isn't obvious to you guys, this chapter has allowed me to set up for the big plot reveal next chapter, as well as introduce a nice little twist on the Gangrel x Emmeryn pairing. Until next time guys, I hope it won't be as long! Also a big thanks to my new Beta, Oblivion772**


	6. Chapter 6

**Heya peoples, I am back, and this time, with a shorter than usual chapter. Look upon this chapter as a bridging chapter. I know I am constantly hinting and pushing the "plot is almost here line," and well, this is what this chapter is. I hope you enjoy, and I can promise the next chapter in the next 2 weeks. In Naga's name!**

Lying on his back, he observed the cloud formations above. Above and to the west were the usual white clouds, sprawling across the sky, with no apparent pattern. Off to the east, he could see darker clouds moving in. Considering where he currently was, this was no surprise. Though Plegia had been a harsh, dry land for all but two months of the year, Ylisse seemed to be a land with many climates, from the arid borders, to the swampy marshes inland and the vast open plains of the high lands. The muffled munching of his horse and the buzzing of field bees were the only sounds to accompany this visual spectacle. In just under a month, Gangrel had come to appreciate the land he now travelled. Sure, lone travellers certainly became the talk of the town whenever he made footfall in one, but he was well on his way before too many questions were asked.

The journey had definitely become an easier one once he had acquired a horse. She was a chestnut, a beautiful beast, it had cost him dearly, but he did not look back. Personal effects would soon hold no meaning. Reaching up to his neck, he played with the pendant. Perhaps there was one thing he could not let go. His family's crest ring had fetched a fair price in the capital of Ylisse and with the coin gained from the sale, he had grabbed the chestnut. The remaining funds had helped him along in his travels. Tracing the curvature of the pendant, his mind retraced his steps through that grand city. Taking precautions, he had shortened his already short hair and dyed it a light brown colour, and done away with his favourite garb. Travelling in everyday wear, he easily slank through the crowds, admiring and envying the Ylissean capital life. Removing the pendant from his neck, he brought back his arm to hurl the ornament, only to slowly lower his arm. He couldn't chuck it away, what if he needed it?

For the pendant wasn't just some fancy piece of jewellery. The pendant had been passed down his line, with the very ring he had sold. However, unlike the ring, the public were never aware of the pendant. The locket held curious power, shielding the wearer from death. As such, the family had kept the locket's existence in the dark. Gangrel remembered when he had been told the legacy of the pendant. Taken from a long past quarrel, one of his ancestors had struck down a sorcerer who had been plaguing the locales. It was unclear as to how the pendant's power had been found out, but it was clear as to how it worked. So long as the wearer kept it on their person, it would shield them from misfortune and danger, but only preventing loss of life. In some of his ancestor's cases, this had resulted in them being nigh untouchable, always in perfect health, ruling long into their later years. For others however, it seemed to bring terrible luck. Cursing bitterly at that thought, Gangrel knew he was one of those few. Though he had yet to die, he found himself in more than his fair share of less than favourable situations.

His Father, forever the man of peace, had taken the pendant off on the evening before his final battle with the Tyrant of Ylisse. He had told Gangrel to keep it close, and that no matter what happened, it would pull him through. Clapping his son on the back, Gangrel's father had risen and left with his general's. It was the last time he ever saw his father. With the rise of dawn the next day came the overwhelming tide of Ylissean's. Taking his last stand, the King of Plegia fell in a flurry of swords, or so the bards and jesters told. Barely an adult, Gangrel was left with the task of rebuilding a broken nation to its former glory, and not even the grim satisfaction of the Ylissean Tyrant's death shook him from the task. With a determination moulded from fury, Gangrel built his nation with one goal, the eradication of the exalted line.

To think that the role of Aggressor and Defender had been reversed only dawned on him in this moment. Laughing at the way fate played its hand, Gangrel rolled himself onto his knees, grabbing his rucksack and mounting his horse. He would love to find some shelter before the skies opened up.

0o0

Chewing on a piece of jerky, Gangrel watched the embers of his crackling fire dance off into the darkness. Their pattern reminded him of that dancer who accompanied the shepherds. Olivia, if he wasn't mistaken. Sighing, he wished he was back in camp, back where he had finally felt like he belonged. But he couldn't go back. Not after seeing Her face, the revulsion and horror she had displayed at being so close to him after her revelation. He just couldn't face her. Looking away from the dancing flames, Gangrel fought back the emotions that raged inside him. They say that you only realise what something truly means to you, when you lose it. Flashes of days spent in Her company sprang unbidden into his mind, Her laugh, Her gentle touch, Her.

Haphazardly kicking soil onto the fire, his emotions finally overwhelmed him, and silent tears slowly trickled down his face. All he had wanted since joining the shepherds was to belong, to share the bonds the others shared. All that time, another bond had been forming, a bond he only realised now he had lost it. In the dying embers, a figure held his face in his hands, reflecting on his terrible actions that had cost him so dearly throughout his life. Cost him the one he had loved.

0o0

"Frederick!"

"Yes, M'lord!"

"I want you to wake General Mustafa and have him assemble his men, Risen reports are flooding in." True to his word, a fifth villager on horseback was being hailed from the outskirts of the camp. He was bloody, but uninjured.

"At once M'lord. Shall I suit up and have my Lancer's follow Mustafa?"

"No, Mustafa and his men are more than capable. Not only would it be cramped for your mounted units and knights in the town, I heard from a report that they are equipped with quite the array of weaponry. Best leave the combat to those who specialise in close quarters.

"Well said Sire, I shall get Mustafa now."

"Grab Lon'Qu while you're at it, He could assemble a few of his own men to help."

"Sire!" With that, Frederick flew from the tent.

Finding his way to his chair, Chrom slumped into it. There just wasn't any reprieve for the damned, and he was sure he was one of them now. The flap of his tent opened, followed by the scent of spice and wood smoke. Though the time was serious, Chrom couldn't help but smile.

"I can smell you Robyn, come to talk tactics?"

"I can't seem to get the blasted smell out of these clothes. I swear Cherche said a handful! And then to top it off, I slip into the kitchen fires tonight. This just isn't my day. Even AVERSA won't come near me. As for tactics, I trust Mustafa on this one, he has a great head on him, He'll be victorious."

Disregarding the Tactician's plight, Chrom questioned, "These aren't your run of the mill Risen though, are you sure?"

"Mustafa will be fine, He has plenty of victories under his belt, besides, he's smarter than your average hack and slasher."

Returning to resting his head on the tabletop, Chrom used his foot to nudge a chair. Taking the hint, Robyn sat.

"Reports came in yesterday of a lone man travelling within the vicinity of Southtown. I have reason to believe it may be Gangrel, what say you on the matter?"

"Hmm, Southtown is quite the hike from here. If it is to be believed, I would dare say he is making for the Outrealms. Considering his abrupt leave, and the fact that he's left Emmeryn distraught, I'd imagine he is seeking to make new ends in an Outrealm."

"If only he'd stuck around. Though, I can see why he would do so, he still should not have fled like a craven. Shall I have men dispatched to bring him in?"

"He stood down as a Shepherd, there is no need to bring him in, and he hasn't done anything wrong. Besides, he is weeks ahead, he will have left this world by weeks' end, no point."

Standing, Robyn swept from the tent, leaving a trail of enticing spices in the air. Grinning against the wood pressed against his face, Chrom imagined how Cherche must feel about all of her missing spice.

0o0

Rising with the dawn, Gangrel collected his belongings, brushed down and fed his horse, before mounting and riding off. The days were long, and dull, but this suited him fine. He was used to having only himself for company. It was currently the wet season, and though it wasn't raining, the air was humid, even as far south as he was. Gangrel estimated he would make it within sight of the coast before day's end.

Mid-afternoon saw Gangrel's assumption correct, cresting a hill to see the slow dip to the coast. Around midday he had begun to pick up the salt in the breeze. Grunting in satisfaction, he tried to remember everything the Tactician had told him about the Outrealm gate. It sat offshore, a couple kilometres from a coastal village. There was a huge sandbar that connected the island to the mainland. The gate was to be located atop a small mountain, more so a very large rocky outcrop. Remembering what Robyn had said about setting the compass in one of his many survival lesson's, Gangrel set his and re-mounted. He should make it to the village by nightfall.

There was something to be said for ruins. Gangrel had fought in many battles, and he had always associated fire with war and destruction. If a town were alight, there was a chance that it could be saved, or its peoples rescued. But ruins? Ruins were devoid of life, eyrie, cold and foreboding. The supposed village lay before him, rubble strewn everywhere, no sign of life. The crops themselves held weeds, and these weeds had reclaimed the town, climbing over all the shattered buildings. He estimated a year or so had passed since this terrible occurrence. Along the shore, he could see where a great host had picketed and set up camp. These too, were old, and Gangrel assumed that it was where the Shepherds had set up before crossing the sandy bridge into the Outrealm.

An eerie feeling overcame Gangrel, what force would want to destroy a village in such a fashion. Its happenings so close to a gate linked to other worlds made him even more unsettled. He didn't believe in coincidences. With the sun already down, and the area lit by moonlight, Gangrel set up camp with one of the barns he found still intact. Foregoing the fire, he tethered his horse, fed her and then fed himself. Laying out his bedroll, he unsheathed his knife and lay it under the roughly sewn pillow he slept with. Feeling uneasy, he slept.

0o0

…

The sound of twigs snapping alerted Gangrel. If it had been a small animal, it probably would have gone unnoticed. However, the snap was of a larger branch, and ever alert as he was, it woke him from his sleep. Controlling his breathing, he could hear the footfalls of multiple body masses. The hushed curse after another snap told him all he needed to know. Rising ever so silently, Gangrel grabbed his knife. The barn may be standing, but there were a few holes in the roof, with a large beam falling from the ceiling, acting as a ramp to the roof. Hoping it would be sturdy enough and strong enough to not make a noise with his weight, Gangrel decided to gain an advantage.

Surprisingly, the beam held, and Gangrel found himself surveying a group of 4 men as they approached his barn. The four men looked worse for wear, wearing little more than rags, but their swords were definitely menacing. Making sure to keep away from the moonlight, Gangrel lay low and rolled himself to the edge facing the sea. Chucking caution to the wind, Gangrel let himself down from the roof, landing in a muffled thud.

"Oi burak, did ya hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Must be hearing fings again."

"Must be, now be quiet, we can't let him hear us."

Grinning, Gangrel used their whispered conversation to come from his side of the barn, and move in behind them. Unlike them however, he was well versed in the art of silent movement, and before too long he was within touching distance of the straggler of the group. Deciding it was too dangerous to let them go, as he was sure that they would just prey on another traveller, he decided to not allow them that chance. With a sense of calm overcoming him, He closed the distance on the closest brigand. Stepping behind him, his arm snaked its way across his throat, with his hand clamped over the mouth. The action, executed in a well-practised movement, made sure no sound escaped. As soon as the victim could no longer alert, Gangrel brought his foot into contact with the back of the man's knees, making him fall backwards, Bringing his knife around, he released the choke grip on the neck, before replacing it with the sharp bite of his dagger.

The dead man's body slumped to the ground, the noise alerting the others. It was too late for the man on the left however. Using the momentum from his leap left, Gangrel bought the pommel of his dagger crashing into the man's face. Stunned, the man could not stop Gangrel, as he reversed his grip and drove the dagger deep within the man's throat, before removing it in an upward slicing gesture. The other two men, seeing how fast their mate's had died, kept Gangrel just out of arm's reach, circling him, weary.

Deciding to chuck in some humour, the Trickster commented on their hushed conversation. "I couldn't help but overhear how you can't let me hear you," Gesturing to the two dead men, he continued, "as you can see, you failed on the execution. Marvellous effort however, I'll give you a 7/10." At this, one of the men stood forward and swung at Gangrel in a rage. Cackling, Gangrel side-stepped the weak slash, stepped into the man's reach and drove his dagger under the man's chin in one fluid motion. Gurgling, the man collapsed, the moonlight reflecting the sheer surprise splashed across his face in red before it faded into the expression of the lifeless.

Having just watched his friends fall to the shadowy figure of death, Burak, for he was the last one left, dropped his sword to run. Bolting passed the bodies, he leaped into the waist high fields surrounding the barns. Afraid to look back, he continued in his burst of speed. Continued, until he felt a thud between his shoulder blades. He collapsed face first, strangely unable to move either his hands or feet. Crying out in fear, he had no idea what was going on. In the position he was in, he could feel a warm liquid collecting on the ground. Vision dimming, he realised that the thud must have been the knife.

Lowering his outstretched hand, Grangel followed the same path the man had taken. The toss had probably been the best he had ever done, connecting at the juncture between shoulder blades and neck. Reaching the paralysed man, he stopped and freed his knife, noticing that there was no sign of life. Wiping the blade on the man's raggy clothing before sheathing it, he re-assured himself that this wasn't just senseless killing on his behalf. Taking a look around, he deemed it safe to return to his rest.

0o0

The journey across the sandbar and into the foothills of the rocky hill was rather uneventful. Having set off at dawn, he had left the bodies to rot, figuring it wouldn't make much of a difference compared to the human remains scattered throughout the destroyed village. By mid-morning he could see that the hill flattened out into a wide area, and by midday he was standing upon it. As with the village, the shack that sat beside the Gate was shredded, bits of wood and thatch flung in an arc within the surrounding area. Feeling uneasy, Gangrel noticed that the gate, which was just two stone pillars ten meters apart seemed to be inactive. The sigil and crimson energy that Robyn had described to him were not present.

Approaching the remains of the house, Gangrel easily identified the remains of a person, which he assumed was the Anna that guarded the portal. Upon closer inspection, the ragged clothing found on or near the remains seemed to be of the same garb as the Anna that accompanied the Shepherds. Sighing in disgust, he realised that his plan to travel inter-realm was shattered. Without a guardian to guide the gate, or activate it for that matter, there was no hope. Kicking at the skeleton, Gangrel was surprised to see a glowing stone hidden in the folds of the ragged cloth. The stone itself tumbled out, casting a faint glow, even amidst the daylight.

Not knowing why, Gangrel cautiously looked around before picking up the stone. It felt oddly warm, and pulsated with energy. It was roughly the same size as a skipping stone, and upon closer inspection, he found a small, circular indent. Pressing the indent, Gangrel dropped the stone in surprise. The indentation seemed to be a switch that had released a blueish tinted, ghost like figure of an Anna. The figure was looking ahead, but slightly to the right of Gangrel. She seemed stressed and on edge. The Anna took a few more breaths before starting to speak.

"To anyone who finds this conveyor stone, I am the Gatekeeper to the Outrealm Gate in this Realm." A large ear splitting shriek can be heard in the background. The Anna visibly cringes at the noise. "I don't have much time, so I must speak fast. A few weeks ago I received word from my many sisters that an Outrealm had become void. This means that all life in the Outrealm had ceased to exist. The Outrealm had been previously saved by the Shepherds of this Realm, so naturally I was contacted. My sisters have reason to believe that a being escaped into the continuum between Outrealm's, and since then, has waged war in several Outrealms. A few hours ago, I was alerted to a traveller trying to enter this Realm. As is my duty, I checked them over, or tried. The being seems to be shrou…" Her voice was drowned out by a terrible roar in the background." Seems to be shrouded in darkness. I have barred the Realm; however, it is breaking through! It won't last much longer, Lastly, reports say that the being was able to summon high intelligence risen. To whoever finds this Stone, please alert the Shepherds before it is too late!" at that, the viewpoint of the stone is obscured as the Anna pockets the stone. Entranced by the vision, Gangrel listens as he hears her gather her sword. The terrible sounds in the background continue periodically. All the while, Anna seems to be muttering incantations of some sort. Perhaps ten minutes after she stopped her speech, a loud, rending sound is heard, making even Gangrel wince.

"By the power invested in me, return to the continuum!" Though shaky, Anna's defiant tone shone in her words.

"Hardly! Your annoyance has been removed, such a pitiful barrier. I will enjoy making you suffer!" The voice, laced with menace, had an odd waver to it, as if spoken and then echoed several times. Remembering Validar, Gangrel realised it was that sought of tone.

Screams of pain could be heard now, as well as a stomach churning squelching sound that Gangrel refused to attribute to something. And all throughout, the same laughter could be heard again and again. Not long after the cries stopped, did the stone stop transmitting as well. Picking up the stone, Gangrel realised what he must do. Making a link to the advanced risen that seemed to be on the rise, he realised that the world's fate now rested with him.

**And there you have it. This was by far the hardest chapter I have had to write, actually the hardest thing I have written period. There was allot going on in this chapter, and I hope I conveyed it well. On another note, I have finally finished an L+ run. I even completed all of the DLC, including secret path Apotheosis. You guys have no idea how stoked I am to accomplish that hahahaha. Well, that's it from me. FT**


	7. Chapter 7

"My Lord! General Mustafa and Tactician Voul have reported to the Tactica tent for debriefing."

"Thank you, you may take your leave."

"At once." And with that, the messenger left the command tent to Robyn and Chrom. Gathering his quills and parchments, Robyn stowed them unceremoniously into his labrynthine like clothing. Chrom had always wondered how Robyn's items, always stowed in such a rough manner, emerged from his cloak as if they had been stored with care. Both men stood, and left, Robyn leading the way.

"Tactician Voul huh?" he tossed back to Chrom, as they made their way through the camp, "It's funny what soldiers come up with when they're bored. He was assigned to Mustafa purely as an advisor, he's hardly qualified to become a Tactician yet."  
"While his skills may be questionable, his defence of that town was rather remarkable, and who knows, this title may spur him to achieve the status that has been placed upon him." Robyn nodded to Chrom's words.

"You know, you may just be right, he does have promise, after all."

They lapsed into relative silence as camp life roared around them, each individual noise joining others to create the cacophony that would intimidate all those who were foreign to its sounds. Brushing through the Tactica's tent flaps, Robyn held them open for the Great Lord. Nodding his thanks, he turned his attentions to the two men awaiting debriefing. With just a nod from the blue haired leader, the imposing general bowed and begun to speak.

"The Town we were called to assist had fallen by the time we arrived. Townsfolk and villagers alike were found scattered throughout the surrounding areas, huddling in survival groups. The Risen, after occupying said town, seemed to fortify their position, as if they expected us. I myself have never seen Risen act like this, and as such, I was caught a little off guard. The situation was entirely unsuited to Lon Qu's forces, resulting in him recalling his forces into reserves. His absence right now is due to the fact his forces were not active when the assault did take place. Voul here, came up with a brilliant strategy; however, to counteract our dilemma." Gesturing to the young man, Mustafa stood back and allowed the nervous young man to continue the briefing.

"Greetings my Highness, and to you as well Master Robyn," These words were met with a chuckle from Robyn as he spoke up.  
"No need for those formalities Voul, My Lord and Robyn respectively are all that is required here."

Nodding his understanding, Voul continued. "As General Mustafa mentioned, the town was occupied, and defended rather well by these Risen. The recapture of the town, as it was when we arrived would have been successful, but casualties on our side would have been large and inevitable. After surveying the town, I saw that the towns water supply was stored much like my village had, and I suggested that with their current fortifications, we could flood them in, allowing us to cover ground whilst they milled in confusion. Water is stored in a large tower, normally a stone basin supported by large wooden pillars. We had our fire mages try their best to burn one of these pillars, which succeeded. The Tower became unbalanced and the basin flooded their entrenched positions. We easily covered the ground whilst they were bogged down, and the recapture was a breeze. We were also able to help the townsfolk that accompanied us after the battle to erect their tower again and assisted with the cleanup. We do regret that their main source of water was all but obliterated. 27 of our men fell in the conflict, they have been brought back for burial. Only four men joined us from the town, however, the town is still very much intact, and the repercussions, aside from the water, are minimal. End Report Sire." Stepping back gratefully, Voul's expression was both of relief and excitement, obviously pleased with his own performance. Chrom turned to Robyn, as the tactician addressed Voul.

"A water attack? What a clever way to outwit your foes, and I must say, a rather effective one at that. Well done to the both of you, stand your men down and let them retire, we will mourn the loss of good men at supper tonight. You may take your leave."

The two weary men left the tent, eager to seek a well-deserved rest, whilst also leaving the two men in another vacant tent, not even a quarter of an hour after they had vacated one beforehand. Robyn made a quip about it. Turning to Chrom with a stupid grin on his face, Chrom just knew that the next few words were going to be cringe worthy.  
"I must say Chrom, Voul's A Tent shion to detail certainly emptied the tent in awe!" Sighing, the prince tried to side step Robyn in a desperate bid for escape, it was not to be. "Or how about this, Lord Chrom and Tactician Robyn, Masterful lord and strategist, tent clearers second to none…"

0o0

The ability to manipulate magic without the use of tomes, was, to him, one of the greatest things his father ever taught him. It allowed oneself to go further beyond the limits that the pre-defined tomes confined their users too. Guiding the air around him, feeling it propel him through the air, this was what true power felt like. Below him, his small host of risen plodded onwards, as of now, they had no destination, only the goal to remain unforeseen. Fortunately, his own hands, dappled in the arts of undeath, were able to cause risen incursions that kept those who might hinder him busy for the time being.

Laughing at how powerful he had become, at how truly insignificant his father's, and indeed his sister's power had become, he glided himself closer to the ground. No use in revelling in his power, if a simple farm hand were to see him gliding around, illuminated by the glaring white moon behind him. Facing west, the dark shadow lead his unholy procession, seeking to make their presence known over the site of this world's greatest feat.

0o0

"What is it NOW!" Gangrel hissed in frustration, turning in his saddle to glare down the rider of the horse behind him.

"Well, you see, as I've told you many times, these bones are old…"

"All times too many," Gangrel grumbled.

"Yes, yes. As I was saying, these bones are rather weary at my age, and this blistering pace isn't going to keep me looking as good as I do for much longer." The man who spoke, contrary to his words, sat well within the saddle, looking around him with keen interest. What also rang false was the weathered visage his body displayed, time most definitely showed its presence.

"Why yes of course, let us just canter over to the side of this road and ogle the women who come by for the next hour or so and completely forget about the main reason we are in such a hurry, yes?" The sarcasm, dripping from his words went completely unnoticed judging by the old man's next response.

"Ohh yes! That sounds like a most splendid idea!"

Sighing, and realising the gods had a most cruel way to serve their punishment, he let the second riders horse level with him before he gave its rump a good wallop, sending the beast careening ahead, splitting the crowd with quite a fright.

The journey from the Outrealm Gate had been a grim one. With the conveyor stone's hectic images securely in his robes, Gangrel had made his way back to his horse, his mind already tumultuous over the decision to notify the Shephards or not. With his mind completely preoccupied, it had taken him a few seconds longer than he would have liked to notice an old man trying to climb onto the back of his horse and ride off. A quick shout from himself had dealt with the situation, rendering the man a blubbering mess, spouting nonsensical words, which later tuned out to be this man's apology and story.

The withered man, named Hubba, claimed to be a traveller from the outer realms, also claiming he had personally met most of the Shephard's from this world during his travels. Gangrel had been suspicious at first, after all, anyone could claim that after seeing such horrific carnage and seek refuge with someone gullible enough to believe that, but it soon became apparent that he was indeed truthful. Hubba had told him that he knew of this worlds threat, but would only tell either Chrom or Robyn, no others. Begrudgingly accepting his words, Gangrel let him be and instead listened to the old man's tale's night after night. The wild stories that the man told of other realms were both ridiculous and entertaining, and Gangrel found the company pleasant, that is until his company decided to grump, perve, complain or just in general get on his nerves. Like telling the future, he hated it when Hubba pretended to, it was such a waste of time. Or his tendency to prey on anyone of the opposite gender. Which brought Gangrel back to the present.

They had since left the small crowded town road and were travelling along the trade route between Ylisse and Plegia. They had been travelling for some weeks now, the time taken to traverse the distance a multitude slower with the presence of Hubba. The town they had just past had been one of the few border towns established along the territorial "line," and had told them that a town south west had only just been liberated from the risen by the Shepherds.

"You don't suppose now that we are closer to the Shepherds, that you might be able to tell me just what we are facing?"

"I do suppose you will find out all in due time, for now though, let us talk about the time where I showed Aversa my…"

Gangrel cut in quickly, "I'd rather we didn't talk about Aversa, whether it be the story you've already told me concerning your family heirlooms, or whether you showed her something else, let's just not discuss that."

After that, they rode in peace

0o0

It was so nice to see those she had cared for and watched grow, strive around her. She could see Vaike and Frederick training with the soldiers, Chrom doing a weapons inspection with one of his quartermasters, Lissa was bustling around in the medical tent with Maribelle. Just so many people she knew, and could remember. Sure, she realised that this was a time of unrest, that something wasn't quite right with the lay of the land, but it felt nice to see these people she had known, and remember them.

While it wasn't a new feeling, somewhat six weeks had passed since her memory had returned, but with nothing for her to do, or allowed to do she corrected herself glumly, Emmeryn found herself with only her thoughts as company most days. Not that she minded, gifted with the necessary items to practice the arts, she would alternate between thinking and sketching. At the moment she was practicing the former.

She regretted the way she had reacted when her memories had returned. Oh, so much would she give to retake the way she had regarded him, with fear, the way she had ran. Not two days after the incident, when he had packed and left, did she wish she could have taken it back. In the moment, she may have felt fear, that was understandable, but when she had approached him the day after, to talk to him, to figure out what was roiling through her mind, he had seemingly merged within the crowd, and he never did sleep within his tent that night. Sighing wistfully, she knew full well the reason of her sorrows. As a leader first and foremost, she had never had a real friend, all relationships had been court based, or purely professional or positional, even Phila had been more towards a friendship befitting ranking more than a personal level. But with Gangrel, well she hadn't had her memories to hold her back, it had been genuine, and with his absence, it left a void she could not fill.

There was more to it than just that, she knew, but she didn't want to delve that far into her own thoughts, lest she cause herself harm. Standing and dusting herself down, she wandered from her tent, centrally located within the camp, and made her way to the mess test. Though it was too late to be served lunch, and far too early to be given tea, she felt like helping with the cleaning efforts. Say'ri was on kitchen duty, and Emmeryn loved talking to the woman about her homeland.

If the sentry men on the northern pickets of the camp had been focusing their trained eyes within the depths of the forest, they may have seen the figure that sat silently within the foliage, observing, watching. Clutched within its hands was the large red seer's optic the risen snipers were known for, but being a mission of observation and stealth, it had removed the red and glaring piece, making it that much harder for anyone to spot it.

0o0

They had been riding since dawn, eager to make it to the supposed location of the Shepherds camp. And though he was wracked with nerves, the weight of the conveyor stone got heavier with each day. Gangrel knew not the evil that had torn its way into this world, but he knew that if anyone could stand against it, it would be Chrom and his army. With the sun dipping below the horizon, he made his way to the camp from the south east, having misjudged the distances given to him by the nearest town. Strangely, even Hubba had not complained of the hard pressed day trip, perhaps he too could feel the urgency within the air.

He could clearly see the massive fires of the camp ahead, with the western parts of the camp hugging a bend in a river, and the northern parts sitting on the outskirts of dense woodland. It was a tactically sound position for a camp, and also meant that his approach would be spotted easily with the open plains of the east and south. With their journey only minutes from finishing, they slowed their horses to a slower pace. He contemplated leaving their arrival till morning, giving himself more time to steel himself for his arrival. He discarded the thought in favour of the urgency of the situation however, he also wouldn't mind having warm food for the first time in weeks, instead of dried rations, which had become alarmingly depleted the last few days.

Hubba halted his horsed and turned in the saddle. "Are you ready to go in tonight? You never did tell me why you left the Shepherds, but a man is entitled to his secrets."

Gangrel winced, "All that matters is this stone, and giving it to Gangrel. My own misgivings are second place and unimportant, but I fear you will see them all the same in due time. What of yourself, are you ready to go into camp?"

Contrary to Gangrel's serious and grim mood, Hubba's face cracked into a crooked smile, "Why of course I'm ready for some hot food, a safe place to rest, and all those toned ladies!"

Shaking his head, Gangrel lead his horse forward. He would deliver the stone, and let the Shepherds do what they would with the old man. He did not want anything to do with the inevitable trouble the perve was sure to cause.

0o0

Somehow, Robyn had found himself stuck with the short straw. Apparently being Grandmaster Tactician did not net you the benefits of being removed from the active duty roster guard roll. After settling into his tent for the night, with his wife snoozing on his arm whilst he read a tome on advanced naval tactics, he was unceremoniously taken from his desk by a grinning Frederick and sent to the southern pickets. But like most things, Robyn took his duties seriously, and after grumbling to the bemused guards he would share this shift with, he began his patrols, scanning the horizon.

They hadn't heard any more reports of Risen attacks in the area for a few days now, so he was surprised when he spotted two horsemen coming from the south east. Notifying the guards around him, they headed to the south gate, ready to receive the travellers. The closer they got however, the more an uneasy pit begun to grow within his stomach. The darkness obscured most of their defining features, and it took Robyn aback when the torch light revealed the faces of possibly the two most unlikely people he expected to see.

"Hail Gangrel, Hubba! What a most unexpected circumstance we have here." The guards, who had also recognized Gangrel had lowered their weapons, curiosity written on their faces.

"Most unexpected indeed Robyn, I must say, I never saw myself returning either, though I bare tragic and concerning news. If you would, may we talk privately with Chrom and Yourself? Oh and it would be wise to bring Anna along as well." His tone, much like his demeanour, alerted Robyn to the gravity of the situation.

"At once Gangrel, and am I right in assuming Hubba will be joining us?

"That I will be young tactician, I wouldn't mind some food either?"

Turning to the guards on duty, Robyn asked them to return to their duties, "I must escort and talk with these two here, and will not be returning to finish my shift. I ask of you to return to your duties, and apologize that you will be one man short, though you should manage fine."

With that, Robyn lead the two men deeper into the camp, receiving curious glances from those they passed, thinking that the trickster had left, never to be seen from again. Once the Tactica tent had Chrom and Anna present, Gangrel stepped forward, his hand withdrawing the stone, only for Hubba to cut him off.

"My apologies Gangrel, but I thought I would say my piece first. It came to my attention that the Shepherds of this world were sent to another realm, with the sole purpose of liberating that would from the clutches of Grima, am I correct?"

Chrom nodded, "Yes, you would be, though how would you know, this business was strictly between us and Naga?"

With the mention of the goddess, Old Hubba's eyes widened, before he shook his head. "It remains unimportant for now as to how I came to know, however, let it be known that all of your issues with that world were not ended when you slew Grima, slew Robyn." Everyone in the room became queasy, "Grima had two children, Morgan and Morgen, twins of separate gender. Your daughter here in this realm, Morgan, bares a striking resemblance to her otherworldy twin counterpart Morgen. I know this, because with my own two eyes, I saw the devastation that young man brought to his realm.

The silence in the room was palpable, Chrom, Anna and Robyn had not expected this, nor could they understand why this had been brought up.

"This is certainly alarming news Hubba, but how does it tie in with this world?" Chrom asked.

"After the death of his Father at your hands, Morgen vowed revenge. Grima's death however, released the hold it had held over Morgan, and she came seeking help from the Otherworld I resided on. I went with her to see the trouble for myself, though we arrived just in time to watch Morgen crush his own Outrealm under the might of his new risen army. In the panic, Morgan was lost, and I barely escaped to this world through a lesser known portal."

Gangrel, linking Hubba's story to the stone he now held continued, "Three weeks ago, I made it to the Outrealm gates, only to find them shattered, and the remains of the Anna guarding the gate strewn beside them. During the journey, I had noticed ransacked villages and small towns, showing destruction and sorrow, though I knew not their cause. "Turning to a teary eyed Anna, he held out the conveyor stone, which she took, "Upon this device were her last words, and her battle against Morgen." Swallowing, Gangrel finished, "Morgen's here, he's here to take his revenge."

0o0

Morgen sat within the warped boughs of the tree he had decided to claim as his "camp." He had manipulated his magic's to bend the branches into a comfortable hollow, whilst his small host of risen sat below. He had early received the report his scout had given, notifying him to the arrival of two figures. He doubted they were anyone important, but all the same, he had to make precautions to not be seen until the time was right. He smiled, that time was dawning, ever closer.

**I have not given up. You will see the end to this. And it won't be such a long wait as I have made you endure, I apologise. FT.**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm so happy to give you guys this chapter, I loved working on it, and I hope you guys love it. The story is wrapping up, though we've still got a little more to go. Until next time. FT**

"If Morgen can summon these advanced Risen we've been dealing with lately, why hasn't he already launched an attack at us?"

"I'd say he's waiting for a particular moment, if this is a revenge piece, then he will most likely want it to play out in a certain way, Chrom." Robyn's eyes drifted to the large map in front of him.

"If what my sister's conveyor stone said is true, then this Morgen is capable of raising whole armies, enough to wage war with. If he can conjure an army at any time, how do we prepare for that?" Though she had just lost one of her sister's, Anna's voice was steeled and strong, voicing a concern many in the tent now had.

Looking up from the map, he regarded the full roster of Shepherds arrayed in the room. After the initial meeting between the two travel wary men and the few who had listened, Gangrel and Hubba had been dismissed to rest, whilst a state of emergency was enacted and the Shepherds were called to the Tactica tent.

"It's actually rather easy to prepare for such an attack," Robyn almost half smiled, "I've been wondering if there has been a pattern to all these attacks over the last few months, and well, until tonight, there hasn't been."

"What are you trying to say Robyn? We've been scrutinising these same maps all this time, and yet now it makes sense?"

"Well, now that we know it's a revenge plot, I'd wager that he wants the battle to be personal, something that would make his father proud. Currently, most incursions have only appeared in Plegia, those that have deviated, happened right along the borders edge of Ylisse. I'm thinking, not all towns were susceptible to the Grimleal call, were they sweetie? The call of Grima that led thousands of villagers on a pilgrimage to the Dragons Table.

"Y-You're correct Robyn. Some towns did not seem to answer the call at all. As the regional commander, I was told to look into it, but I was having too much trouble keeping you all at bay. I'm so sorry!" Robyn smiled at his wife, as Aversa's eyes cast down in shame of her past.

"It's fine, what's done is done. Now, we know for a fact that the border of Ylisse and Plegia has always deviated over the years, and I was able to nab a map from the realm this Morgen hails from. I did so because it looked a little different, and I was correct!" Laying down a much smaller version of the map, Robyn started marking towns. "On this map, all towns hit by Risen attacks are within Plegia borders. Now Aversa, if you could come and look at the names of these towns for me, could you tell me if any of these towns were the ones where no Grimleal servants were taken?" As she came forward, Robyn laid a hand on her back and gave it a light rub, a silent apology for bringing up the past. She gave him a smile of acknowledgement before looking closely at all the town names. It wasn't long before a small gasp was heard and she straightened up.

"All of these towns were on the list of non tributaries!"

Robyn grinned, he knew he was onto something. "Just as I thought, whilst the borders are different, it's a well-known fact that some of the Grimleal came from the Ylissian border towns. With Aversa confirming that these towns contributed nothing to the Grimleal army, I think it's safe to say this enemy of ours is punishing those who did not help his father's cause. I'd also wager that we'll find him making his way to the Dragons Table, something just tells me he'd want to seek revenge on the site of his father's downfall, and whilst Grima's death was off the coast of Origin peak, his power still resonates stronger within the Table."

A murmur of agreement sounded within the room as the Shepherds took it all in and made the connections Robyn had.

"What you say Robyn, does indeed make sense," Chrom agreed. "And even if you aren't wrong, the Dragon's Table may be harsh, but it's about as good a battlefield for any army as any, whether you're defending OR attacking, so I don't think we've got much to lose by making our way there."

"Well then, all of you, my friends, our path is yet again clear. I would ask of you to lend yourselves to eliminating this threat, to ending this spiral of death that seems so hell bent on following my bloodline." Robyn looked towards all of the faces in the room, knowing that even if it weren't his own son from this realm, it was still a blood relation, no matter how obscure. He was greeted by the determined faces of his loved one and friends. He raised his hand in dismissal, turning to talk to Chrom when Walhart stood forward.

"My Lord, do not take responsibility for the sadness that this outsider brings. In this realm, you were the true conqueror, you conquered your fate, and returned to us. You then led us yet again into battle with the same god, and slew him there. This little runt is only pursuing false grandeur, looking for a dead god's favour. I speak for everyone when we say we would rather be at no one else's side but yours in this time. You will conquer again, and we will be there, guiding your blade." Grunting, Walhart left the tent, Say'ri close to his side. Those who had stayed to listen to the hulking man voiced their agreement, before they too left to salvage what sleep they could.

Chrom looked to Robyn and shrugged, "They said it better than I ever could. But I think that's us done for now, we know our enemy, and we know where he'll be. I'll alert Frederick to up the patrols, but that's about all we can do for now, why don't you and Aversa get some rest."

Robyn was about to disagree, gesturing to his maps when Aversa placed a firm finger against the Tacticians lips and addressed Chrom. "Ooh thank you, Milord!" With that, Robyn was pulled unceremoniously from the Tactica tent.

Chrom laughed

0o0

Gangrel awoke within the healer's tent, aware of a presence just outside his partition. With his late arrival to camp, Gangrel and Hubba had been ushered to the large white pavilion to find a bed, as no spare tents were going to be placed whilst the soldiers lay sleeping. Shifting into a sitting position, He ran his hand through the beard that had grown in his travels and sighed. He HATED looking scruffy. From what light was filtering through the canvass of the tent, he guessed it to be late morning, a few hours before noon. He would have to thank whoever was on duty for letting him rest he supposed.

Getting up he stretched and left the partition, having completely forgot the presence that had woken him in the first place. He didn't forget for long.

"Gangrel… So it's true, you did return." Softly spoken, nevertheless, those words caused a pit of fear to suddenly consume Gangrel and he halted in his tracks. The sounds of someone standing and moving towards him lasted for eternity, and yet, he still could not turn to face her.

"I heard from Chrom that you brought us dire news. Thank you for alerting us when you could have chosen not to."

"Like I even had a choice woman!" His snark surprised even him, and he was quick to apologise. "Ahh, I'm sorry, I mean, of course I came back. I don't wish to see this world torn to pieces."

"It must have been hard to come back, knowing I'd still be here." Her voice, still soft, was heavy with sadness, and Gangrel picked up on it. Though, try as he might, he could not detect the bitterness or disgust he was expecting.

"I- It was definitely something I was dreading, yes I will admit." The words barely escaped, and after speaking them, he finally turned and faced Her. She stood before him, clad in her robes, and the saddest smile adorned her features. He glanced into her eyes for but a moment and instead of the disdain he expected, there was a sense of loss there, but as the glance turned into a solid connection, loss became hope.

"You know, Gangrel, my reaction that day was to be expected of anyone suddenly regaining their memories."

"I know."

"But, how I felt in those first few minutes, and how I felt barely an hour after wasn't the same, I tried to tell you before you left, but you were so hard to find." Her voice was cracking, and he could see her sad smile slowly crumbling, she took a step towards him.

"I hurt you, I took from you. I stole away your life, your memories, you had every right to feel that way Milady." He struggled to form words, and yet she was getting closer still. Over her shoulder, he could see Libra as he zipped from one of the partitions. He stopped, saw the exchange, before moving on. Emmeryn stepped closer.

"But I don't feel that way." Another step. "I'm so sorry for the way I reacted, I should never have done so." She couldn't get any closer, he was looking straight into her eyes. "With my memories regained, I could see how much you've changed, how close we had become, how much you meant to me." She placed a hand on his chest. "I'm so glad you're back Gangrel." He felt her other hand upon his cheek, he couldn't breathe. "I missed you!" and with that the gaze broke, and she crumpled into his arms, and she cried. And he held her, because he was glad she didn't hate him, he was glad she knew how much he'd changed. Because he had missed her too.

Watching, Libra smiled. It had been Lady Emmeryn he had tasked the crazed king to mend, but now, he wasn't sure who had healed who in this situation. Walking off, he just knew Cherche was going to want to hear of this.

The pavilion was wracked with sobs as the two stood there, arm in arm, the only other sound was a still sleeping, snoring Hubba.

0o0

Walking into the mess tent with Emmeryn once the midday meal was ready had been a chore. Expecting hostility from those who he had only been able to call friends before he had left turned to be baseless, as those Shepherds he passed welcomed him back and chatted with him easily. It seemed even after his hasty departure, the good standing he had worked so hard for was not lost. He found himself dragged to the women's side of the Shepherds table, where Emmeryn sat with her friends. Beside him, Sully, who had been confiscating the sweets her husband had snuck to the table turned to him.

"I see you bought us some pretty grim news last night eh? I knew you went off to get a wink of sleep, but you should have seen Robyn in there! I don't know how he can think like that, but geez, that must have been some hard riding to get back here so fast from the Gate!"

"It wasn't an easy journey, no, but we had to. The more time I wasted, the worse the situation could have been, could still be."

"I getcha, all the same though, I get why you did a runner, but it's nice to have you back you know. It took a little bit of effort to get to like you, don't want all of that to go to waste." She gave him a grin before smacking away Gaius's hand as it crept towards her lap, where she had placed his sweets. Turning away from Gangrel she swore at Gaius.

"Oi, bugger off and eat something decent for once!"

Being amongst the Shepherds again felt so odd, but a firm squeeze on his arm from Emmeryn bought him back to the task at hand, which was eating. Still wary of the conversations flying around him, he tucked in. More than aware of the fact She had yet to remove her hand from his arm.

0o0

"Ahhh, Gangrel, please do come in!" Robyn stood aside and allowed the tall trickster into his tent. He took a seat on his bed whilst Gangrel occupied the tacticians desk chair.

"You wanted to see me Robyn?"

"Why yes I did. Nothing major, just thought I'd let you know that the information you provided last night was invaluable, your companion much less so I'm afraid." Frowning, Gangrel urged him to elaborate. "After riding with him Gangrel, surely you understand what I mean. Nice fellow and all, he just, you know, puts us on edge. Especially Libra, he can't stand the man. Can't seem to convince him he isn't a woman. But I digress! Last night and this morning, we've discussed the information you gave us, and we are almost certain that we know how to stop this threat. We'll be moving to set up camp near the Dragon's Table, as I believe that is where we'll find this foe of ours." Robyn's cheery mood was off putting to say the least, but he guessed that was just how Robyn was.

"And what of myself, and of Hubba?"

"You'll be reinstated as a Shepherd of course. We've all missed having you around here, and besides, I heard you and Emmeryn sorted your differences, so you shouldn't have a qualm. As for Hubba, contrary to what I just said, I'll extend the same offer to him, his Einherjar cards will be a great asset if what he says about Morgen's risen armies are anything to go by." With that, Robyn stood and smiled, with Gangrel following suit.

Shaking Robyn's hand, he thanked the man "Thank you for giving me another chance, I won't waste this one! I vow to serve the Shepherds and quell any problems that may arise."

"You didn't waste your last chance Gangrel, you merely misplaced it for a time, you left us with notice, you did nothing wrong. Issues of the heart can sometimes drive us to do things on instinct."

"H-H-Heart? Bah! What are you talking about?" Gangrel sputtered the words, knowing well that what the tactician spoke of was something he himself was coming to terms with."

"Oh I don't know Gangrel, just something that came to mind is all, now if you'll excuse me, I have an army to pack." The still red Plegian was pushed from the Grandmasters tent, and left to look embarrassed in front of Chrom and Lissa, who both regarded him with raised eyebrows.

0o0

They were to march in two days' time, he was told later that afternoon. After returning from his rather interesting talk with Robyn, he was cornered by Frederick, who informed him of the roster of chores, before being informed that the medical tent would be his quarters as there was no use in erecting a tent for it to be taken down so soon. He spent the rest of the evening mingling with the Shepherds on the training grounds, participating in drills here and there, but his mind drifted to other things.

The following day, he found himself woken early to join the breakfast duty. Out of all the meals, he remembered minding this one the least, as people were still waking up and the noise of the mess tent was a lot quieter. After serving himself a platter, he was joined by Emmeryn, and as they ate, she asked him to join her by the river-bend for the day, a chance to relax before the march.

And here he sat, on the river bank, side by side with his biggest enigma. For all he had done, she still sat by his side, nary a care in the world. Remembering a night he spent gazing into a fire after his realisation, he felt quite uncomfortable wondering what she'd think of the proposition. Brushing it aside, he reclined onto the grass, watching as she did the same, the hubbub of the camp in the background not as unpleasant as he would have first thought.

"You've changed so much, you know?" Her voice was light and carried on the slight wind, breaking the silence for the first time since they'd gotten there.

"hmm?" he questioned.

"You've changed. You're no longer the man I met back in the Plegian Castle. You're a much gentler man now, you have some quirks, but I'm glad I got to see them all during our healing sessions."

He couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret, "Years of regret and self-loathing will do that to you I guess."

"Please, Gangrel, please don't say that." Her voice, still as light, had a firmness to it.

"I need to say it, now that we're both fully aware. But if you wish to let it be, then just allow me to say I'm sorry." He put as much sincereness into his words as he could. Rolling his head to see her, he came face to face with a rather speculative Emmeryn.

"I accept your apology, and we'll leave it at that. What's done is done, all that matters is the here and now. And I must say, I rather enjoy having you with me here and now." At her words, his heart skipped. Emmeryn closed her eyes and hummed quietly, reaching her hand out to rest it on his arm. Gangrel's mind was racing. He knew he'd fallen for her. The angel that had somehow righted his discord, had shown him atonement. Shown him forgiveness and care. He'd never dared to believe she felt the same way, but perhaps with her last words…?

His breathing became shallow, and his stomach flipped. He tried to calm his mind and heart, but all he could think about was the chance at a new life she'd given him, and how close she was. She opened one of her eyes and gave him a wry smile.

"I'm waiting Gangrel." There was a hint of humour in her voice, and something else he couldn't pinpoint. Immediately his mind went into over drive, was he supposed to have said something? Answered her? Suddenly parched, he lamely replied.

"Me too."

He was taken aback as she started to giggle.

"Oh my, for such a terrifying king, you sure can't take a hint in the presence of a lady can you?" He barely had time to register what she had said before she closed the distance between them herself, her lips barely gracing his, her hand, lifting from his arm to caress his cheek. Shocked, it took him a moment to register what was happening, before he melted into her, returning the kiss in the same gentle manner.

It lasted but a fraction of what Gangrel wished it could have, and as they broke apart, she twitched her nose before laughing and rolling away. Mortified that he'd done something embarrassing, he reached out to her.

"What did I do? What's so funny! Gods, I'm so sorry!" Flustered beyond belief, he could only stare as she rolled back to face him and sat up.

"I-It's fine!" she giggled, "your scruffy beard just tickled my nose is all!"

Sighing in frustration, he vowed to shave upon returning to camp. He sat up and joined her as they looked out across the water, his hand finding hers. With the mood considerably lightened, and his heart feeling contended he smiled. For once, everything seemed like it was going fine.

That evening, the two returned to camp together, hand in hand. The Shepherds, seeing the sight as the two made their way to the mess tent, all agreed on one thing, though an odd couple, it was about time.

0o0

The trouble with risen scouts, Morgen had learned, was the fact that, whilst they were great at observing single mindedly, understanding what they had seen once they tried to relay it back to him was a task all of its own. Stepping over the now dead husk, he made his way to the campfire he was using. He'd discarded the risen cohort he'd kept as company a few days prior, as they were only slowing him down. With them gone, it made selecting routes easier, as well as only really needing enough space to camp for one. He never truly understood why he had created that small legion, perhaps he was just flexing his power? Whatever the reason, he'd disposed of them. They were easy to make anyway.

He mulled over what he had just learned. Apparently, the Shepherds were back on the move, heading in the direction of the Dragons Table, his direction. His scout had spied them a days into their march, and that was almost two days ago. He scowled, he couldn't know if it were by pure coincidence, or if they knew of his existence and his motives, but he couldn't be too sure. He wasn't ready to receive them at their destination yet, much less put his plans into action. He'd taken his revenge on the local towns though, and that gave him a small amount of satisfaction. Those who hadn't aided his father in this realm paid the price. After communing at the Table months prior, he had gained the last vestiges of memory from the Grima that had lurked in this world, yet again a symbol of proof that his dark arts were rivalling that of the gods. He grinned, whilst he wasn't able to obtain that title for now, it surely wouldn't be too much longer. Best to leave his trailing adversaries, whether they knew or not regardless, a nice surprise.

0o0

A Military on the march was a sight to see. The columns of wagons in the centre of two large flanks of men. The Shepherds led them, in line with, but in front of the central caravans, uniting the two flanks. This was their third day on the march, and it was rather droll. By his side strode Emmeryn, looking cheery as she chatted with Cherche. Gangrel himself was content with silence, deciding to instead reflect on the rather rapid series of events that had transpired between Emmeryn and himself these last few days. Whilst they themselves hadn't really changed much, still preferring silence and being in the presence of each other, as it had been for the last few months, the Shepherds themselves had been bombarding them with praises and all sorts of mannerisms. He'd almost snapped yesterday when Aversa had been making lewd suggestions between Emmeryn and himself, and whilst he thanked the gods for the fact Emmeryn had been pre-occupied, he feared he had learned a little too much of his Tacticians love life, and that was mortifying. He didn't understand the attention either, they certainly weren't engaged, they had just come true of their feelings is all. He attributed it to dull army life.

Camps were quite a simple affair whilst on the march, instead of picketed tents and sectioned paths, it was more or less guarded convoys with large through shelters surrounding multiple large bonfires. It was late afternoon before they decided to stop for the day, and with the host moving to their respective tasks, Gangrel found himself stuck on cooking duty. Much like the simplicity of the camp whilst on the march, so too was the food. Food was food though, and not too many people complained.

He was woken during the night by the mutter of the perimeter guards as they passed his tent. Craning his neck, he spotted them heading to the Tactica tent, one of the few tents that got erected no matter the army disposition. What he also noticed though, was the heavy fog. Knowing Plegia, and the rough location they were, he found the fog to be odd, but he didn't think too much of it. When he was woken a few hours later to reinforce the perimeter guard duty, he started to think a little more on it.

0o0

By morning the fog was thick, and non too inviting. Robyn had called the troops together and asked them to not stray too far and keep an eye out for any suspicious activity. They hastily broke camp and continued their march, the overcast day and the ever thickening fog making it all the more discerning. As it got thicker, so too did the wariness and anticipation of the Shepherds, something wasn't right. Their march had come to more of a crawl, Robyn urging them more than ever to stay vigilant. They may have been marching an open plain, but the visibility was so poor, it was as if they were marching on barren ground, flanked by towering trees, just out of sight. All too suddenly came the stench.

"Risen it is." Robyn said before calling a halt.

"LISTEN UP SHEPHERDS!" His shout carried to the whole envoy, and they immediately ground to a halt. "I believe we may have an answer to this fog, and it isn't pretty. I want the caravans to stay situated in the centre, and I want a ring of defences around where we are now. Risen."

Wooden stakes were placed facing outwards in all directions, not knowing which way the risen would come. The army worked with speed, and it wasn't long until lines of men stood vigilant, but at ease. The wind had begun to pick up, and it was starting to clear the fog, but not the stench. Overcast was quickly turning into a more serious matter as darker clouds swept in. Not even an hour past midday, the first sighting of Risen was spotted, and it was truly daunting. Coming at them from the front was line upon line of the shambling horrors.

Gangrel was reminded of one of his nightmares, facing hoards upon hoards of the undead, his back firmly pressed against the grave of his most important treasure. Though she had taken her position with the healing staff, and he with the frontline Shepherds, he knew that unlike his dream, He would win. The Risen sported weapons and armour, and deployed in such a manner as if they had a tactician amongst them. By his side Chrom stood, observing the army."

"So this is the force that could end an entire Outrealm. Are you ready Gangrel? They seem to be smarter than the average corpse."

"Yes Milord, I doubt with Robyn leading us that they'll cause much more than a slight hassle."

"Don't be so sure, If what Hubba said was true, they're a lot more deadly than they look, and they have the intelligence to boot." At this, Cordelia stepped forward.

"Are we to expect Einherjar to help reinforce our ranks Sir?"

"I'm afraid not Cordelia, Hubba was unable to take his collection with him, and as such is assisting the medical wing for this fight."

"Very well Sir. Shall I have the Pegasi riders ready to harass?"

"That won't be necessary Cordelia," This time it was Robyn who approached, finishing his rounds of the defences. "We don't know if they'll have archers, and we must always expect the unexpected. However, in saying so, this wind has cleared the fog enough to completely determine this will be the run of the mill frontal army assault. I've re-routed our backwards facing battalions to reinforce the ranks. We'll also allow them to come to us."

"So now we wait."

"Yes Gangrel, yes we do."

0o0

The problem with silver swords, Gangrel found, was that they just didn't have enough bang. He emphasised this by blasting a Risen berserker who had come at Lon'qu from his blindside, creating an audible boom as the Levin's lightning arced across its body. Acknowledging Lon'qu's raised hand in thanks, Gangrel flipped over a sword wielding corpse and plunged his sword straight through. Passing the body of the risen archer he'd thrown his silver sword through, he did relent and admit that at least silver swords made better javelins.

The battle, though hard pressed, was really turning in their favour. The elite troops they fielded proved to be more than a match for even these elite Risen, which had certainly been grounded into fact. They moved and swung harder and faster, and their numbers had been bordering overwhelming. But Robyn's tactics and the efforts of the healers had kept their numbers strong and healthy, and the battle was showing it. He'd seen Emmeryn a few times, healing those in need, descending upon them like a guardian angel. He'd watched as a risen spear wielder had charged at her, only for her to annihilate it with her tome. He'd smiled a good while after that, dancing his own way through his enemies, in a style on tricksters could muster. Seemingly chaotic, but well planned, he waded through his enemies, cutting them down left and right, keeping his eye on any comrades that needed support.

He found himself Backing into Gaius, who was getting targeted by a cluster of axe wielders.

"This ain't too sweet is it?" Gangrel cackled, completely losing himself to his own element in battle.

Gaius just looked at him and laughed. "What are you talking about old timer? This is a piece of cake!"

Not a single Risen moved as the two split ways minutes later, cuts and charred marks on their bodies a testament to the final redemption the two Shepherds had put them through.

0o0

"Hey there, are you all right?" He stooped to talk to a soldier who was visibly injured, holding his gut.

"N-No sir, I'd appreciate a healer though." He ground his teeth in pain as he spoke. Gangrel straightened and beckoned a healer over.

"We got an injured fellow here, it looks serious."

"Thank you sir."

"Think nothing of it."

Moving on, he moved through the battlefield. The clash had ended an hour prior, around mid afternoon. They had decimated the enemy force, and had sustained very few casualties whilst doing it. Those who were injured, were getting treated, and those who had passed on were being prepared for burial. All around them however, Risen were disintegrating, the light rain and their natural degeneration combining to clear the field of the foul bodies, making it ever easier to find their own dead and wounded.

The medical wing was out in full force now, swooping in onto the battlefield delivering hope to those who lay there dying. Gangrel himself found himself tailing Emmeryn, watching her as she went from one injured man to another. Accompanying her was Cherche, Lissa and Hubba, who for once was behaving himself and had proven to be quite the competent healer.

"How are you holding up?" He asked her, the hem of her robes were covered in blood, but she didn't seem to mind.

"I dislike violence so much, but I'm glad that I'm able to help. It makes me feel useful, and it allows me to rectify the violence." He smirked, it was exactly the sort of answer he'd expected.

He followed her as she knelt beside a soldier who seemed to have lost his left arm. She was soothing his worries and telling him they could re-attach it easily when Gangrel felt something was off. This part of the field was almost devoid of risen, those that killed already having disintegrated. Trusting his gut instinct, he swivelled around and saw the threat. A Risen sniper, covered in cuts and gashes, unsteadily getting to its feet, gone unnoticed as the healers focused on their duties. It looked in his direction, but not at him, at someone beside him. It raised its bow…

Knowing its target, he stepped in front of Emmeryn, raising his sword and discharging just as the Risen let fly. He saw the arrow as if in slow motion. He felt a thud, and then he was falling. He heard his blast hit home, and Emmeryn screamed…

0o0

Those who were buried that day were to always be remembered. But it was the one grave that sat to the side that held the Shepherds attention the most. The body was lowered and the Shepherds said goodbye to one of their own. Emmeryn cried into the shoulder of Chrom as the hole was filled in, and soon the Shepherds headed back to camp. War often came at a terrible price


	9. Chapter 9

He had never expected his Risen distraction to succeed, but when he heard that the Shepherds had sustained little losses, Morgen was visibly irate. Throwing caution to the wind, he had soared the remainder of the way to his destination, the great altar of Dragon's Table. Not that he worried about a loss, at the end of the day there was no limit to the risen he could summon. He never expected a victory, far from it, but it was the fact that his army seemingly hadn't made any real impact on their ranks that fuelled his rage. Grasping the dark energy flowing through his veins, he reached far above him and decimated the large cross that sat upon the Table's tower. The sound of solid stone crashing its way downwards echoed across the barren plains, and yet, Morgen paid no heed, lost to the power that consumed him.

0o0

They had set up camp for the night a half day's march from the Dragons Table. The campfires burned bright, the open forges sounded with dull clangs, and yet, the forces that occupied the camp remained mute. After the clash with the Risen the previous day, everyone could feel the oppressiveness that the fog wrought. Though it had weakened, it was still apparent, swirling around them faintly, its unsightly darkish hue putting everyone on edge. They'd had their mages conduct tests on the fog to determine its origins, but it had been Tiki who had informed them of its fell properties.

"It reeks of the fell dragon." She had simply said, before wandering back into her tent.

Whilst the shepherds knew of the existence of Morgen, and his origins, the rank and file of their forces did not. It was with some dismay that Robyn soon heard that Tiki's stark message had spread fear through their ranks. The god of death rising, thought to be dead, was enough reason to harbour such fear. Robyn felt it time to inform the men of their end goal, their duty to rid Morgen from their world. He addressed their fears, but left out the finer details, such as Morgens name, or where exactly he had come from. With the threat of Grima somewhat dispelled, the men had accepted their duty with a little less concern.

As it stood currently, the camp was in a state of restless unease. Their Pegasus riders had flown ahead and scouted the Table, returning with little new information. Whilst this may have been a sign to move on, Robyn's resolve was strengthened when scouts who'd been dispatched to several remote hamlets and "towns" returned word of a figure gliding their way towards the Table. With this news, Robyn felt confident in his initial direction. Whilst the men needed to rest for what was sure to be an immense battle, Robyn couldn't help but double the patrols around the camp. Safety was in its own way, the better approach.

He sat reading a tome he'd managed to wrestle off of Tharja for a few strands of hair and a nail clipping. He'd long ago given up on dissuading her from her tendencies and figured if something bad was going to happen, it'd have been done far before now. The tome, Goetia, itself was invaluable, delving into the dark arts, explaining and giving directions on how one could be most intimate with the magic's of death. He was a bit disappointed to find no mention of summoning a hellish army, but the spells and overall power he felt from the tome dwarfed any of the magic's he currently possessed. He endeavoured to pass it on to his wife, she'd be sure to love the new tome, and hopefully, it's strength would lend itself effectively to his cause tomorrow.

0o0

With nothing to do, Gangrel found himself sitting around a campfire assigned to the use of the Shepherds. With meals being reduced to hard rations whilst on the march, the fire served more as a communal point than a cooking fire. To his left, Emmeryn was slumped against his shoulder, fidgeting with a few blades of dried grass she had plucked from the ground. He knew exactly how she felt, the feeling of utter despair, knowing someone died due to your actions, or to save you. Survivors guilt. He too, could feel it eating away at him, but having lived with it for so long, he was able to numb the feeling. But with the way she had been the last two days, sullen and withdrawn, it pained Gangrel to see her in this state.

He'd meant to take the arrow aimed for her, he'd seen the risen draw back its bow, and he'd moved to intercept as he'd seen the release. What he hadn't realised was Hubba too had seen what was to unfold. He'd pushed the trickster to the ground and taken the arrow to the chest. Emmeryn had screamed and tried to immediately perform medical aid. It was no use. With his age, Hubba's body didn't have the density to resist the arrow, and it had sunk deep, taking his life as he fell. Having seen and experienced death for most his life, Gangrel had paid his respects amongst the other Shepherds as they buried him, but it was all too much for Emmeryn. Abhorring violence and lending her talents to healing, she immediately withdrew when she made the connection between his death and the sacrifice he'd made for her.

Squeezing her hand, he rested his head upon hers, "You ok?" He felt her head bob slightly as a response.

"Will you be fine for tomorrow? You might be needed on the field. I'm sure if you're not up to it though, you'll be allowed to main the backlines and heal from there." It felt odd caring for someone, but Gangrel didn't mind. At his words, he felt her curl just a little tighter to his arm.

"I'll be fine tomorrow; I'm just thinking is all." Her voice was low, almost inaudible, but Gangrel didn't doubt her. No matter what happened, she would stand firm.

0o0

"Lord Robyn! I have a report from one of the scouts!"

"Proceed." He straightened from his position over the map, looking towards the captain who'd entered.

"We just had a pegasi scout return from her patrol of the table. She says she witnessed the entire top of the tower shatter after being crushed by dark magic. The scout also reports spying what looked to be a shadowy figure within the grounds. She feared for her safety and retreated, calling all others in the area to join her too."

"Thank you for the report captain. If I could ask of you to deliver a message to Sir Frederick?"

"Yessir."

"Ask Frederick to gather the Shepherds within the Tactica tent regarding tomorrows approach within the hour. Afterwards you are dismissed."

"At once my Lord." With a crisp salute, the captain left to his duties. Stretching, Robyn returned to his map of the altar. There would be little sleep tonight.

0o0

"Our approach is going to be simple. Much like a few years ago, we are looking at approaching the table, therefore we are starting in the unknown. Our adversary has shown his aptitude in the summoning of Risen, so expect their numbers to grow, or at the very least, lessen considerably slower than normal. This is of no concern though if we are able to use the terrain available tactically. Sketches returned from scouts show several natural ditches and large piles of debris from the last battle fought there. Whilst he is defending, I would dare say he would summon the fiends from within the table to better protect them from any ranged artillery we would care to construct. As such, we can expect them to be funnelled from the entrance here, through the debris field and finally into the trenches. This will be as much a defensive battle as an offensive battle. We must let them come to us first, and slowly push forward, creating new frontlines after each chokepoint within the ruins is cleared. When we can, a team of Shepherds will push in towards Morgen, who I presume to be within the altar. If we can distract him, no more Risen. Have any of you any questions regarding this strategy?" Robyn surveyed the room, and when no one spoke up, "Good, now onto the insertion team. I'll need 20 Shepherds, the remainder will lead the troops, your discretion when it comes to altering the plan will be needed. So, with that said, I need volunteers. I myself am going. He may not be my son from this timeline, but I'll play the role of father for him one last time."

"You seem to think he'll fall in this battle Robyn? Do you think he is truly lost?"

"Chrom, he uses the magics of my bloodline, there is no hope."

Aversa stepped forward and stood by her husband's side. "You came back to us dear, surely the same could happen for him?"

Robyn shook his head. "I came back due to the bonds I created with each and every one of you. Morgen came from a world of despair, he has no one. Morgen is lost, and it falls to us to ease his mind." With the tone in the room shifting to a tone more serious than the battle looming over them, Gangrel himself stood forward.

"Excuse my intrusion, but I do believe we needed to select those who wished to show the young man a lesson for tomorrow? If that is still the case..." At that, he felt a tug on his sleeve. Emmeryn held the sleeve within her hand, concern etched into her face, mouthing "no" and objecting to what she knew he'd say next. "then I'd like to play hero for once." With the words out of his mouth, he allowed Emmeryn to drag him back as others stood forward, voicing their eagerness to aid the assault party.

"I know you'll go regardless of what I say, so please, stay safe, and look after the others, just as they would you." He could tell she was upset, and with such high odds stacked against them, he didn't blame her.

"I have to do my part you know, and plus, Plegia's my old lands, no one's going to screw it up bar me!" With that remark he elicited a chuckle from her.

"Look after Chrom too?" She asked. He merrily nodded, and watched the scene unfold before him.

"Walhart wants to ride through the tides of battle again! I will not be deterred!" The large man was arguing with Robyn, with a rather smug Basilio standing beside him.

"And you'll be able to do so, guiding the troops on the front lines. The truth is Walhart, we need a leader first and foremost to lead the troops. Chrom is with the Assault group, and both Kans' managed to raise their hands before you could. Think of all the risen you'll be facing, surely that is enough?"

"I AM INEXORABLE! Make someone else lead! I insist on…" Whatever was to be said was lost as Say'ri, displaying remarkable strength, hauled her husband away. Sighing Robyn turned back to Chrom.

Emmeryn wandered off, seeking to talk with the other medical staff within the Shepherds which allowed Gangrel to go talk with the group which would be leading the assault against Morgen tomorrow. He gravitated over to the ever widening group, noticing Lon'qu, Gaius, Sully and Aversa amongst the ones volunteering to go. He stood beside the Swordsmaster, both acknowledging their presence with a firm nod, it was time to talk strategy.

0o0

They began their march before first light. Battle ready and weary, the lines of men trod their way towards the ever growing landmark in the distance. By midmorning, they were almost upon the Table, its huge, ancient architecture dominating their attention. Estimation of arrival was set for late morning, and Gangrel knew it was going to be a shitstorm. He marched with the head of the army, surrounded by those he could now call friends. He had come along way, but he still had a journey ahead of him. Since the days of Zanth, all he'd ever wanted was a chance to atone, a chance to take back the wrongs he had wrought. Standing by his side was the woman he had wronged the most, yet fate had somehow had the last laugh, and he found himself carrying for her the most of all. Though budding, he could not deny the attraction he felt towards her, could not deny the feelings he harboured, nor the hopes he had of the future. Whatever the past may be, he had changed, and the present reflected that.

"So you'll be commanding the medical tents I hear?" He laughed as his voice startled her. He got a nudge in return.

"Yes. I wished to man the field and help there, but I was told rather firmly by Chrom that I was to oversee the med tents. I don't suppose you know anything about that?" Her tone, which had started of light, had dropped to a thin layer of ice, and he winced.

"I may or may not have mentioned the topic to the Princeling, but in my defence, I was worried for your safety, I don't want what happened a few days ago to, you know, happen again…" He drifted off, not really wanting to breech that subject whilst they headed off to do something that could result in exactly that.

"Still, I don't want everyone to risk themselves whilst I hang back, I could make a difference you know." Her voice was firm, but he could tell she understood.

They lapsed back into silence as they resumed their ever march forward. Reaching around his neck, he withdrew his pendant. For a while now, he'd been debating giving Emmeryn the locket, as protection more than anything else. His only pause was the fact that it only worked within the Plegian royal family. Emmeryn watched as Gangrel toyed with it, sliding it around in his palms before he placed it back around his neck. If Emmeryn was safe handling the medical bays, he could very well do with the pendants protection in the battle ahead.

"Was that the fabled locket of the Plegian line?" Emmeryn asked, curiosity within her voice

Startled that she knew, he stammered "Ye-Yeah it was, but how'd you know? It was a well-guarded secret!"

Emmeryn cast her eyes down before she replied. "My father had his ways. It makes me a little more relieved to see you in possession of it though."

"Hmmph" Was his only reply.

0o0

As per the tactical meeting the evening before, the Shepherds army zoned immediately towards the large depressions that sunk into the ground before the large debris maze. They had made it to the table at the peak of midmorning, with the harsh sun still unable to eliminate the thin traces of fog that clung to the air. With practiced ease, the frontlines had formed their defences within seconds along the strategical line, the ditch giving them the natural height advantage over any risen that had to charge through it to get to them. With Gangrel's position at the head, it was easy to see the lone figure who stood at the top of the entrance steps, not three hundred meters from their line. The silence was palpable.

Robyn stood forward, crossing the few metres that the depression spanned before addressing the hooded figure.

"I wouldn't suppose that you'd agree to drop whatever quarrel you have with us, Morgen?" His voice was loud and clear, easily spanning the empty battlefield between the two.

"I'm surprised that you know who I am, but it matters very little now. For my father's sake, I won't back down. My father was a god, and you took what was rightfully his, what was mine to be inherited! You weren't even of my world! And what do I see when I come here? I see that you've denounced the gift that our god gave you, deciding instead to slay the one who had made you who you were, the perfect vassal. Even with the mark upon my hand, I cannot feel Grima's presence here, you have most certainly killed my god. But that's ok. Today, I plan to make you all suffer, your death's will fuel the spell I have wrought, and I will become my own god!" With every word spoken, Morgen's voiced transformed from that of a human, to the distorted booming voice of the fell dragon.

"I do not believe that is how godhood works Morgen. You are a fool to believe it so!"

"A FOOL? You wouldn't have a clue the power father had! You are but a fraction of the man he was! The power, the magic he showed me, anything and everything is possible, and now YOU SHALL SEE!" propelling himself into the air, Morgen blasted a spell into the ground. Behind him, within the altar, shadowy mist began pouring out of the entrance and all the crevices. Gliding his way inward, Morgen disappeared as the Risen began pouring out. Rank after rank came, all with different assortments of weapons.

Returning to the front line, Robyn and the rest of the force stood ready as the risen crossed the gap. They came disciplined and ready, not rushing in, and definitely not the shambling messes they had fought in the years gone past. Everyone paid attention to the bottlenecks that appeared, noting how the Risen became sluggish and confused upon trying to pass them. Gangrel saw Robyn point it out to Walhart, who sat upon his huge steed with his large axe primed. The massive general nodded once and gestured to a few soldiers before returning his eyes to the oncoming mass.

As the Risen cleared the ruins and began their charge into the ditches, Robyn signalled the archers to fire. The sky above Gangrel turned black for a moment, before the large flock of arrows collided into the oncoming risen ranks. Many fell, but the Risen continued forward. Readying his sword, he watched them cross the ditch and then it begun.

With a large cry, the front line of the army surged forward as one, Lancing and slashing into the front line of risen, their height advantage lending their momentum to their thrusts, felling many with ease. With the push, the archers ceased fire, and they too gathered their swords. Gangrel's first foe was a spear wielder. Its sight was set on Gregor, who stood beside him, so Gangrel wasted no time in leaning forward, using his swords jagged edge to slide right under its armour and penetrate its body. Withdrawing the blade, he immediately continued his descent into the trench, Mindful to keep an eye out to prevent over extending. The spear wielder was quickly replaced with a swordsman, who he parried with a few times before felling with ease. He could hear Gregor somewhere to his right, roaring his delight as he thumped his axe into the risen, one after another. He could have sworn he even heard the oaf shout 'GREGOR SMASH" but decided even the foreign hero wasn't that daft, surely. Catching the oncoming berserker with a blast from his Levin, he parried the axe that came hurtling at his head as its owner lost all control of its borrowed life and sunk to the ground. He ducked under the swung axe of the next fighter and drove his sword straight into its side, raising his foot and kicking it back as he withdrew the blade. He gave the dying creature a blast for good measure, knocking it into three of its kind, which the others around him dispatched with ease.

Their initial push seemed to have ended, as the sheer amount of numbers Morgen had fielded had created an impassable wall. Their frontlines were still strong, those who bore wounds felt the tell-tale signs of psychic stave uses as their cuts and gashes knitted back together. Stuck in the lock, all Gangrel could do was play the constant game of ducking and weaving, assisting his friends where he could, and falling back when the numbers to their sides became too great. To his left, he heard Robyn yell for the mages to area cast, and remembering what that meant, he parried the sword that was thrust at him and braced for the intense light that suddenly seared his vision.

A tactic he'd been taught that the shepherds employed, casting tens of thoron spells together would cause a large area explosion or "cleansing" as they called it, and judging by the surge forward that came from their side, it must have been successful. Pushing forward, they trampled the dead and dying risen under their feet, slicing their way through to the other side of the depression, repeated lightning strikes arcing all over the battlefield.

After clearing the other side, he heard Robyn call the Assault squad in. Swapping positions with those that would remain, Gangrel fought his way to their Grandmaster, who had retreated several ranks behind the frontlines. He was one of the last to arrive, all members looking far worse than they actually felt.

"Alright, we've cleared the trench, which was the easy part. Now that we have somewhere for the wounded to be taken to, and the mages to area cast in safety, we can begin our assault. The plan's simple, we'll be moving as a circle, casters and those who can do a little healing in the centre, whilst the physically orientated remain on the outside." Turning to his wife, Robyn gestured to the new tome Gangrel had seen grasped in her hands. "I trust you've learned enough to cast the few spells I required of you""

"Of course darling," Aversa grinned back, an ominous purplish hue adorning her fingers.

"Great, so the other plan of our is to keep Aversa safe. Her new tome has the power to absorb dark magics, which she'll be using to deconstruct the risen around us, this will allow us to continue moving forward, whilst also giving us a few meters to breathe. Though I'd expect the risen to collapse the gaps we make within seconds, It'll allow us some swinging room. We all clear?"

Gangrel voiced his confirmation, along with the others, and then they set off, jostling their way back to the front. Aversa took the lead, and as she reached the front, an aura consumed her as she channelled this new magic.

Giggling, she cast her spell "All good things must end."

The aura pulsed forward, obliterating tens of risen in a wide radius. Rushing forward, the team quickly formed ranks, and when the risen began to fill the gaps, Gangrel fought them back.

0o0

"God damn it, can't we get through here?" Chrom roared as he slashed at what felt like the fiftieth risen who had occupied that gap in less than a minute.

"It's a bottle neck Chrom, those two pillars are channelling them straight through here. Aversa's trying her hardest, but we need something more!"

Gangrel spoke up, barely dodging a poorly swung axe he hadn't seen until a moment before. "What if after Aversa clears, a small group of us push forward and hold the gap until she can cast again? We'd be split for half a minute, but it'd do the trick!"

"It's dangerous, but it'll have to do. AVERSA! You ready again?"

"More than ever. Such a pity, they're still clinging to hope."

And with that, the gap appeared again, only this time Gangrel rushed the gap, leaping over fallen forms, joined by Chrom, Robyn, Lon'Qu and Basilio. Together, the five stood firm, as risen surrounded them on all sides. Thrusting his foot out, Gangrel tripped the closest fighter, sending it stumbling, only to then discharge his sword straight into its chest, barrelling it away. Darting forward to finish those he had knocked down, he was pulled back moments afterward by Basilio, who gave him a grin before braining the closest risen.

It felt like an eternity before the shadowy aura flashed, and the group stood firmly by their side once more. As they moved ever onward, the Shepherds army gained ground, slowly taking the advantage in the fight.

0o0

"Cherche, a new stave if you could! Long range, preferably a fortify or two if we could spare."

"Certainly milady!"

The medical bay was inundated with those whose wounds were too serious for the spot healing of the long range staves. Shepherds and sages alike were scurrying to and from the injured, exhausting their large stock of resources to get them fighting fit and ready for action.

Emmeryn herself was leading the long ranged effort, casting their spells far into the front lines. The power of the sage was to sense all around them, know who to hurt and know who to heal. Her mastery of this skill was second to none, therefore it fell to her to keep tabs of the battlefield, and the assault team. She could feel them struggling, could sense their wounds, and when things got serious, she sent wave after wave of energy from the best staves she could get her hands on. But she had a limit, and she knew that if their front lines couldn't keep up, she'd lose them when they entered the altar.

"Milady, here are some Fortifies. We're running low on them, so please use them as sagely as possible." Cherche turned to go before she burst out laughing. The high stress of the battle and their nerves, combined with that awful comment proving too much for the wyvern rider. Smiling despite herself, Emmeryn cast her mind back across the battlefield.

0o0

There was something to be said for stairs, and Gangrel was sick of them. It was hellish enough to have to climb them, a whole other ordeal to fight on them. Though the risen did not bleed, their gaseous contents seemed to hold enough moisture to mix with their own blood to make the climb treacherous and slippery. Several times already, a member had gone down on one knee, only to be hauled back up and thrust back into the hack and slash of things. Gangrel had stowed his sword a while ago, the close quarters fighting proving to be so much easier with his dagger. Cackling like a mad man, he was repeatedly dealing punches and kicks, slipping his dagger in-between armour pieces and throats alike. Currently, his risen opponent was smart enough to try and grapple the dagger, but a right hook to the jaw was enough to distract the creature long enough for him to plunge it straight through its eye socket.

"You're an eyesore GYAHAHAHAHA…oh, well that's the end of that then." Covered in blood and gore, the dagger finally refused to return to his hand, stuck within his victim's skull. Shrugging, he drew his blade and continued. Adjusting to the longer weapon, he adopted his usual strategy, staying light on his feet, and striking fast and precise. Using a wide parry on an axe, he sent the risen careening off balance, straight into Lon'Qu's line of sight. The Swordsmaster, dual wielding at this point, paid little heed as the risen blundered into one of his blades. Shrugging at the unexpected outcome, Gangrel continued the push up the stairs.

0o0

Much like he had done as he had fought to survive, Walhart had yet again taught Risen the meaning of fear. He had long since sent his horse to the rear of the line, preferring instead to cut large swathes through the enemy ranks. The issue now was the fact that the risen were no longer approaching his line segment. For every step he took forward, they took a step back, faltering in the mindless advance. Even his own men had left him to his own devices, but he didn't blame them, it was probably safer that way. He'd left many risen fallen to the wayside, as he strode through them, pushing the line ever forward. To the far left, he knew his wife was leading the fight there, and that she would do well. To the far right, that insufferable jerk that preached about the blue flame was leading his own ragtag band. But in the dead centre? That was his ground.

Bounding forward, he smashed into their frontlines with a war cry, twirling his axe mindlessly. There was no point in finesse and skill when every swipe of your weapon resulted in guaranteed death anyway.

0o0

As they crested the stairs, their final hurdle lay in sight. Morgen hung suspended dead centre of the Table, wraith-like as he cast his spell, shadows spiralling from him. The Risen for their part, seemed to materialised periodically not twenty feet away from the entrance they now stood at. Aversa, adept from repeated uses, was able to keep the spell at an almost constant, evaporating their foes every few seconds. Though it had brought respite for the others in the group, she herself looked ready to collapse.

Breaking through the conjuring line, Robyn went to his wife's side and held her as she stopped her final spell. With her duty done, she slumped forward, drained of energy. Gangrel and the others stood in a rather unique position. Behind them, the Risen continued their infinite advance, however, only facing forward. In front of them stood their aggressor, protected by the veil of shadows that shrouded him. After Anna had seen to Aversa, and Robyn was sure she'd be fine, the others approached Morgen. As they got closer, his wraith like appearance diminished, until they stood before him. Behind them, the conjuring of Risen stopped, and the mist started to dissipate on the wind, carried upward by the now topless tower.

"I had no intentions of allowing you to reach me, I'll be honest. I had thought my Risen would have kept you at bay until exhaustion overcame you." Morgen's voice was flat, but the underlying tone of power could not be shaken. Gangrel could feel it every time the young man talked. It was cold, and warped. "But no matter, you're here now, twenty of you. That'll do for now I suppose."

With a flick of his hand, Morgen sent them sprawling. Lon'Qu, first to his feet, charged and swung at his opponent, his flurry of strikes seemingly parried by the mist like tendrils Morgen controlled. With every parry, Lon'Qu grew more desperate, trading skill for raw power. Laughing, Morgen let it continue for a few more seconds before his hand shot out and gripped the Swordmaster's neck. With everyone else now on their feet bar Aversa, they rushed to Lon'Qu's aid, only to be kept at bay by Morgen's power.

"Oh no you don't. I'm going to show you all an example. Everyone has a spirit. With enough spirits, I can become a large entity. I so dearly wanted your soul to be the first." At that, he looked pointedly at Robyn, "But I supposed this one will do."

Struggling against the vice like hand applied to his throat, Lon'Qu tried desperately to escape, but to little avail. Morgen, smiling at his struggling victim, unsheathed the sword at his side. Looking one last time at Robyn, Morgen then drove it straight through Lon'Qu's stomach, before dropping the man to the ground. Twitching for a few moments, Lon'Qu tried to breathe before it failed him and he lay still.

"That was a little fun, but a little too slow for my liking. How about we pick up the pace?" The flat tone from before had quickly shifted to a sardonic one, and Morgen faced the group. He gestured for them to make a move, and Gangrel felt powerless. As one, Anna Robyn and Tharja thumbed through their tomes, Tharja stooping to collect Goetia from Aversa. Timing their spells, they cast, slamming all they had against Morgen's mist barriers. Taken aback by the power behind the attacks, morgen gritted his teeth and visibly braced as he fought back. Anna gave out first, exhausting her casting abilities. Picking up her stave, she raced to Lon'Qu's side. Robyn followed suit not long after, His tome bursting into flames at the intensity of the spell. With nothing to do but watch, the remaining Shepherds saw Tharja reach her limit, before Goetia finally broke through Morgen's defences and struck him. Recoiling from the lacerating shadows, Morgen growled.

"You'll all pay for that one." He ground out, conjuring a sphere in one hand.

As Tharja sunk to her knees, Gangrel and Flavia stood in front of her, ready to deflect the spell to come, but nothing prepared them for the attack that came. Ghostly shards erupted from the sphere, slamming into everyone and sending them reeling. By the time Gangrel could move, he was the only one conscious. At his side, Flavia lay broken, strewn and tossed aside. Feeling a burning sensation around his neck, he fumbled with his locket, feeling the new, large indent in it. Realising that his locket had just taken the brunt of the attack, he laughed as he stood.

Morgen appeared to be in no better shape. Tharja's spell had caused severe lacerations to his body, which he was concentrating on healing. Bending down, he picked up his sword, He didn't know how, but this had somehow fallen to him to finish. Remembering his hero remark earlier, he smiled sourly. Should the Shepherds lose someone today, he wasn't so sure he'd like the title. Morgen gave up on healing as Gangrel approached, summoning the ghost like tendrils.

"You have no hope against me. I have no idea who you are, which means that in my realm, you're a dead man. And that's all that matters."

Giving himself a grin, Gangrel couldn't help but reply. "Can you really kill a man that cheats death?" Standing before Morgen, he removed his locket. Morgen watch curiously, not sure what to expect. Raising his sword, Gangrel watched as the tendrils moved to follow it.

"I suppose you wouldn't want to fight fair would you?" He asked, gesturing to the tendrils.

"I have half the mind to just erase you from this existence and then continue with the others. The only reason why you still live is because I can't figure out how you're still standing." The curiosity in the demon's face was apparent, and Gangrel couldn't help but feel as if he was looking at a younger version of himself.

"Well, if we ain't fighting fair…" He slung the pendant at Morgens face, the locket sailing effortlessly through the barriers Morgen had erected before crunching into his face. Crying out in shock, Morgen dropped the barrier and clutched his face. Stepping forward, Gangrel finished "Then neither will I." At that, he thrust his sword into Morgens chest, activating the levin's properties for good measure. The close proximity of the blast sent Gangrel to the ground, whilst it knocked Morgen backwards as he tried desperately to heal the wound in his chest.

Unable to stem the bleeding, Morgen gave up on the endeavour, choosing instead to end the life of the one who had caused the injury. Using his energy to launch himself, he landed on a half delirious Gangrel, wrapping his hands around the Trickster's throat.

"YOUR LIFE WILL BE THE ESSENCE TO FUEL MINE!"

Not expecting the assault after the blast had sent him reeling, Gangrel's already fogged mind started to go into shutdown. He could see the figure above him, its demonic face twisted into a snarl. Vision dimming, he thought he could also see Robyn raising his sword. He felt warm liquid begin to pool on his chest at the same time the grip around his throat loosened. Dragging in large breathes, he began to heave as Morgen let out a blood curdling scream.

"NOOOOO! I was the rightful god, I was supposed to…succeed my father."

Robyn kicked Morgen off Gangrel, using the momentum to unsheathe the blade from his back, before stooping to help check on him.

"You ok there Gangrel?" Nodding, as he was incapable of talking, he weakly clasped Robyn on the shoulder in thanks.

Struggling to get up, Gangrel just gave up for the moment and lay there. Around him he could hear the others coming to. Outside the clashes of battle were beginning to die down, by now he was sure they'd noticed the lack of Risen reinforcements. They'd be getting help soon.

0o0

"Are you ok?"

"I'm the sage, shouldn't I be asking you that?" Her reply made him laugh.

"You're the one who spent most of her day healing and treating others. All I did was kill a few Risen and wrestle a lunatic."

"You're lucky to be alive you know. And not just you, all of you. Lon'Qu will make a full recovery given time, Aversa is mentally and physically drained, but nothing that rest can't fix, but the rest of you, you've either got broken bones or you've been contaminated by whatever magic Morgen used. It's going to take a lot of herbal cleansing to remove that." Her voice was stern, but Emmeryn bustled around him, changing his dressings with care and smiling when she thought he wasn't looking.

He thought it cute, but didn't know how to mention it, so he replied rather lamely. "I guess I won't be going anywhere for a while then."

At that, she gave him a frown. "Oh you? You're fine. It seems that pendant of yours saved you from most of the serious harm that befell the others. You'll be discharged in a few hours for some light rest." Finishing the last touches, she left his partition, seeking out another patient in need.

Sighing, he guessed light bed rest was better than none.

**I'm hoping that was good, I had doubts about this chapter, but I'm overall quite happy with how it turned out. I hope you guys like the next chapter by the way, it's probably what you've all been reading for, so I made sure to put as much effort into it as I could. It will be uploaded immediately after this one!**


	10. Chapter 10

Wiping sweat from his brow, Gangrel continued to turn the soil. Whilst definitely not a large task, their reasonably sized garden was ready to plant whichever vegetables his dear wife decided to grow this season. He could feel the midday sun beating down on him, much less intense then he remembered it being in Plegia, but here in Ylisstol, even midsummers days weren't necessarily hot. Plunging the fork back down for the last few times, he stretched his aching back and groaned in delight. Emmeryn was due home in a few hours with whatever produce and seeds she planned on planting, and he'd be tasked with planting them as the noon sun sunk below the horizon. Not that he minded, it was always good to toil.

Stowing the garden tool, he took a seat at the table outside their front door. Below him, he could see and hear the hustle and hubbub of the capital folk as they went about their daily routine. But up here, on the upper tiers of the small mountain that made Ylisstol, peace and quiet reigned. He figured She was down there somewhere, collecting her supplies, dealing with the crowds of people that wished to speak with her. Oh he knew just how much she hated it.

After returning home, the citizens of Ylisse were ecstatic to see their treasured Exalt return, only to weep when she announced her denouncement of the title. She instead gave it to Chrom, who had been none too happy with the arrangement either. Emmeryn was given her own room within the castle, but she declined, choosing to reside in one of the fancier houses that ringed the castle, joining the ranks of the Ylissean elite. Gangrel, who had returned with the Shepherds, had had to make a decision. Return to Plegia and re-assert himself to the throne, or fade away and let history close its story on himself. Choosing to follow in the fair haired Exalts path, he endeavoured to start a new life.

0o0

"So Gangrel, what do you plan to do if you do not intend to run for the Plegian throne?" He sighed, shifting comfortably on the bench he shared with Her, both sitting amongst the royal garden within the Palace of Ylisstol. Gangrel had been trying to figure a way to casually bring the topic to the surface, but it seemed his companion had beaten him to it.

Throwing caution to the wind he replied, "I was hoping that I may accompany you, wherever you go. I've grown rather fond of you, though I have no blazing idea how you managed to make me do so." Adding humour, he hoped, would work to his favour. He needn't have worried however. Feeling her head rest against his shoulder, he looked to his side, and locked eyes with her.

"I think we both know that the term fond pales in comparison to what we both feel, Gangrel, but it's a good word to use. For now." She giggled as she said the last few words, then closed her eyes and relaxed. He sat there, waiting for a reply to his question, and after a few minutes of tense waiting he finally burst.

"So what is it? May I accompany you? May we see where we go in this life together?" The irritation and worry in his voice was clear, and Emmeryn couldn't contain herself any longer, snorting and laughing at the bewildered man by her side.

"That sounds oddly like a proposal to me, but I don't think I'll answer that topic just yet. Perhaps in time. As for the now," She looked up at him, guiding his face to hers, "We can give living together a go. I can't imagine it to be unpleasant." Grinning, he closed the gap between them and kissed her, gentle yet full of emotion.

0o0

It was late noon, and the sun was only a few hours at best away from dipping below the horizon. Whilst he knew Emmeryn could fend for herself, not that anyone would even consider harming her, he still got worried. After freshening up from the yard work earlier, he had scrubbed and cleaned the polished wooden boards of their home, whilst normally a task Emmeryn chose to do whilst Gangrel consulted within the castle, he decided he'd give her a break this week and chose to do it himself. Afterward he tidied up wherever he could, he had every intention of having visitors over during the week and he didn't plan on having a house that wasn't presentable to host them in. Regna Ferox was sending delegates this week, and Gangrel was looking forward to catching up with Lon'Qu and Sully, who he'd offered to host within his own home. They'd graciously accepted, and Emmeryn had been delighted.

After the multitude of conflicts the Shepherds had gone through, Sully and Lon'Qu had moved back to Regna Ferox to start a family. Over time, Gangrel had made close friends with the Swordsmaster, and when he and Emmeryn had finally wed, a quiet affair it had been, He had asked Lon'Qu to be his best man. Smiling at memories from his wedding, he twisted the band upon his finger. He couldn't believe it had been three years."

0o0

The two of them loved to go on day outings. Remembering their days of service with the Shepherds, both had retained the love of finding a nice field or clearing, and just spending whole days in silence together. Today, they found themselves laying face up in an open field, spring flowers springing through the grass. His hand lay in hers, and he absentmindedly stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. Emmeryn hummed her response, and realising what he was doing, he gave a chuckle before starting conversation.

"Did you know it's been two years next week since Chrom's coronation?"

Removing her hand from his, she propped herself up to face him. "I did. And does this mean that you know what today is?" Her wry smile gave it all away and he grinned back, feeling the small object in his coat pocket press into his chest as he mirrored her by propping himself up.

"How could I forget? I believe today has been two years since we began living together." Her light laugh was music to his ears as she flopped back down.

"Yes, yes it has been. And I wouldn't change a thing!" Gangrel's smile, suddenly vanishing, was replaced with a serious look. Emmeryn, who was too busy basking in the suns glow and her smile, didn't notice until she was gently pulled to her feet.

"Oooh, are we going somewhere?" She inquired.

"Uh, not really." immediately, his different tone caught her ear, and she looked him in the eye with a puzzled face. Gangrel, places his index finger to his lips to signal her to hush, continued. "Whilst living together has been a wonderful adventure, I was hoping we could make one change to our arrangement." With his cheeks flaming red at this point, and the look of anticipation in Emmeryn's eye, he fumbled the ring from within his pocket and knelt in front of her.

"How in blazes did you get me to love you? Regardless, all that matters now is that I am yours forever." Holding the ring out to Her, he hoped she'd take it. His heart soared as she knelt down with him, taking the ring and embracing him.

"Thank you Gangrel. I love you too, you made me whole again." Slipping the proffered ring on, she was pulled into an embrace. They laughed as they sent each other tumbling into the grass.

0o0

"Sweetie I'm home." He heard called out, as their front door was opened. Meeting her in the hallway, he laughed at the sight before him. With new clothing fresh from the spinstress on one arm, and the basket with the seeds and produce on the other, she looked at odds for the most part.

"Clothing, I should have known. I trust your day was great though?" Relieving her of the basket, he set it outside, ready for when he would plant later. From within the house he heard her talk.

"It was lovely. I went to the local hospital whilst I waited for my clothes, and afterwards collected the seeds and plantlings. I hope you don't mind root vegetables; they seem to be the go this winter."

Walking into the kitchen, and with her arms now freed, they embraced.

"Anything will be fine; you can make anything taste nice. I did miss you though today, it was hot out back." He made sure that he put emphasis into his light and teasing tone, knowing she'd probably blush.

As if on queue, Emmeryn turned bright red, and she buried her face into his chest. "I missed you too."

Grinning, Gangrel couldn't help the smug tone he replied with. "I know. It's why I love you."

**And we are done. Finally. I hope you all enjoyed this pairing, it was a blast to write. FT.**


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